What Will Come, Will Come
by RowanRhys
Summary: Gen. Harry Potter finds the summer after his Fourth year is nothing like he expects... An answerfic to Severitus' Challenge
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**Author's Note:**  This has been rewritten and reformatted since I posted the first copy of Chapter One, due to a brainstorm I had while listening to a thunderstorm rattling the window of my hotel room in Missouri in the middle of the night.   Enjoy!

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter One July 1, 1995 

(Kings Cross Station, London)

_Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station.  There was no point worrying yet, he told himself as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car._

_As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come… and he would have to meet it when it did._ (From GOF Chapter 37)

Unfortunately, what Harry had coming, came almost immediately.  His trunk had been shoved into the boot of the car, and his robes stuffed in next to the tyre jack before Vernon had slammed down the lid, barely missing Harry's fingers.

"Get in the car."  Dursley's voice was an angry growl that triggered an automatic fear reaction in Harry.  He hurriedly ducked away from his uncle, as if to avoid a blow, and slid quickly into the vehicle, pushing Hedwig's cage in ahead of him, grateful that Aunt Petunia was in the front seat so he'd have to sit in the rear.  Oddly, Dudley wasn't in the car, but Harry wasn't about to ask where his fat cousin was.  He slumped back in the corner of the seat, and surreptitiously fingered the long hidden pocket that he'd transfigured into his oversized, hand-me-down jeans to hide his wand.  He had no intention of using it for illegal magic, but if worst came to worst, he could always call the Knight Bus again to get himself and Hedwig out of there.  Hopefully, his aunt and uncle would believe the wand was safely locked up in his school trunk and he'd be able to hide it under the floorboard in his bedroom.

The tension in the vehicle was so high, that by the time they'd reached Little Whinging and Privet Drive, Harry was sure that one word would trigger a massive explosion of Dursley temper.  Even Hedwig seemed cowed by the anger that seemed to emanate from the corpulent, red-faced man and remained silent inside her too-small cage.

Once they'd arrived, Harry set Hedwig's cage down on the sidewalk and headed for the boot to get his trunk, only to be seized by the upper arm and dragged towards the front door by his uncle.  Despite four years of excellent food at Hogwarts, Harry had never really gained the size and bulk a boy of his age should have, and his physical resistance did no good against his Uncle's much larger mass.

"Hedwig!--" he protested as Petunia Dursley followed them in and closed the front door firmly behind her.  Harry found himself pressed up against the cupboard below the stairs, the knob of the ventilation grate digging into his back.  Vernon's scarlet face was millimeters from Harry's glasses and the boy swallowed hard at the hate in his Uncle's eyes.

"That damned owl isn't coming into this house this summer.  No more of your threats to write to your damned criminal godfather. Got that?  You're doing exactly as I say, boy, or you'll suffer for it."

Harry swallowed again, and nodded fractionally.  "What are you going to do with Hedwig?"  The blow from his uncle's meaty fist rocked his head hard back into the wall and he gasped as pain blossomed across his left cheekbone and eye.  The frames of his glasses dug into his skin before the temple snapped away from the lenses and he grabbed for them even as he raised his hands to forestall a second strike.

"You get up in your room and stay there unless told otherwise."

As Harry ducked away from his uncle, he caught a glimpse of his Aunt Petunia's face and cringed away from the hatred and spite mirrored there.  He fled up the stairs, clutching at his broken glasses, only to find out why Dudley hadn't been in the car when he was picked up.

The boy, only a few months his senior, had apparently _not_ been keeping to his diet, what weight had been shed the previous year was back with a vengeance and the porcine youth would have been hard put to fit into the back seat by himself, much less with Harry and Hedwig.  As it was, he entirely blocked the upstairs hallway, preventing Harry from escaping into the second bedroom.

"You're back, are you?  You know you're not wanted here.  Why didn't you just stay at that freak school of yours for the holiday?"  Dudley sneered and swung his Smeltings stick at him.  "What is it?  You so much of a freak that the other freaks don't want you around?"  

Harry ducked again, simultaneously trying to block the stick aimed at his head with his arms, but the rigid length of wand down the side of his left leg reduced his mobility and Dudley's stick caught him sharply across the left wrist.

The crack of fractured bone was sickening in Harry's ears and he went white as the pain slammed through his nervous system.  His vision began to gray out, and he collapsed backwards, to fall down the stairs.  Flashes of red and orange filled his head with each impact on a tread, and his last clear sight was of his uncle looming over him, moustache bristling in his florid face.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys Chapter Two July 1, 1995 

(Hogwarts)

"Severus?"  Remus Lupin knocked on the frame of the open door to the Potions classroom.  It was deserted, but the door leading to Snape's office beyond was partially open, so he repeated his action on that one.  "Severus?  Are you busy?"

"Come in, Lupin."  The voice sounded distracted and when Remus rounded the door he found Snape with his hooked nose buried in a thick tome, one hand marking his spot on the page of tiny, crabbed calligraphy while the other scribbled madly with a raven quill on an impressively large roll of parchment.  "I'll be with you in a moment."

Remus hid a grin as he sat down in one of the uncomfortable visitor's chairs, stretching out his legs and folding his arms across his chest.  It was fairly obvious, now that the students were safely away from the school, the Potion professor's mood had improved drastically.  Plus the fact that Snape was apparently involved in what was his first love--research--didn't hurt either.

Finally, Severus tucked a scrap of parchment into the book, marking his place and laid down his quill.  "I thought you and Black were going out to find 'the old crowd' for the Headmaster."  He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers before him as he rested his elbows on the chair's carved arms.

"We were, but we don't expect to be back before the full moon, so I thought I'd see if you've had a chance to brew up some more Wolfsbane Potion for me.  The Twelfth will be here before we know it and I don't want to be caught out."

Severus tried to stifle the automatic shudder that came with memories of his first encounter with Lupin in werewolf form.  "No, I don't suppose you do."  He pushed himself up from his chair.  "There's some left, but not enough for an extended trip."  He headed into the classroom/lab, then paused in the doorway.  "I expect you to lend a hand, Lupin, since it _is_ for your benefit?"

Remus got to his feet and followed the taller man into the torchlit room.  "Well, while I never really got the hang of the mixing and measuring, I can chop up things with the best of them."

Hours later, the two men stood over the simmering cauldron, Remus holding a bowl of ground, dried wolfsbane while Severus sifted in carefully measured amounts of the critical ingredient, allowing every speck to be incorporated into the mixture before adding the next tiny spoonful.  The werewolf shifted position to ease his back, aching from being on his feet in one position for more than half a day.

"Careful with that," Severus snapped, "We need every bit of that and if we have to grind up more we'll have to start all over."

"Sorry." Remus wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell arising from the half-done potion.  "Have you had any luck in finding anything to moderate the taste that won't make it ineffective?"

Snape shook his head.  "So far, nothing.  I'm researching some Muggle biochemistry texts to see if there's any leads there, but it's not looking hopeful at this point."

"Ah, well.  Perhaps it will burn off my taste buds soon so I can't experience that horrible flavor anymore."

"You could always hold your nose," the lank-haired man suggested and Remus snorted with stifled laughter.  Had Snape actually made a joke?

"I've tried that, but, no, your concoctions always were more powerful than I was."  His smile faded. "Stars, Severus, why the hell did we have to be sorted into different Houses back then?  I've begun to think that we might have been friends if not for that blasted House rivalry."

Snape's voice was flat as he replied.  "You can't change the past, Remus.  Only live with the consequences of what you did then."  Another spoonful of powder slowly disappeared into the mixture.

"But maybe one can atone for those actions.  I know that I made some bad choices back then."

"It wasn't you who made the bad choices.  It was Black."  Snape looked levelly across the cauldron at the werewolf.  "I'll be honest with you.  I never understood how you could have forgiven him for that night he sent me into the Whomping Willow's tunnel after you."  He gave the pot another six clockwise stirs and let another pinch of powder sift into it.  "I accept that I was stupid to let him provoke me, but when you continued to be his friend after he'd done something that could have had you imprisoned in Azkaban or executed or even get the Dementor's Kiss--" He broke off.  "It made no sense then and it makes no sense now, even after nearly twenty years."

Remus was silent for a few minutes while he to figure out the right way to respond to Snape's comments.  Finally, staring down at the potion that steamed in front of him, he asked, "Have you ever heard the Muggle saying 'Hate the sin, but love the sinner?'"

Snape shook his head.

"The idea is that a single action does not define a person.  A single bad choice does not automatically condemn them forever. That it's the action and choice that is irredeemably bad, not the person who made it."  Remus laughed shortly.  "I'm not saying Sirius was an angel--far from it!  But he _was_ my friend before he lost sight of the consequences of what he was planning.  He didn't reject me when he found out what I was during First year.  I don't know if it was James' or his idea to become Animagi so that I didn't have to suffer my curse alone, but he was the most enthusiastic about it.  He was the first to succeed in the transformation, able to stay with me for several months before Peter or James were able to.  Without them, I was nothing… no friends, no hope for my future.  I didn't speak to him for months afterwards, though.  I refused to let him be with me during my changes, just James and Peter.  When I saw him laughing about your reaction, I wanted to kill him myself--but then, one night when I was in a position to do so, I looked into his eyes and remembered that they were the first eyes to look at me without terror when he learned I was a monster--and I couldn't destroy my friend."  

Remus took a deep breath.  "Severus, I hated what you did, when you took on the Dark Mark.  But that's not all you are, no matter how much you try to believe it.  When I learned, after James and Lily died, that you'd been a spy for our side, that you'd made new decisions and new choices, I couldn't hate _you_."  He added, "And, after all you've done to atone for that one bad decision, you shouldn't hate yourself."

There was silence on Severus' side of the cauldron this time.  When he spoke, he said quietly, "I see the point you are trying to make to me, Remus, but while you have memories of friendship and support to complement the stupidities that Black performed, all I have are memories of pain and evil and my own stupidity and jealousy.  Nothing else."

"Surely you have _something_ good in your life?  Not even your memories of Lily? I knew you were in love with her during Seventh year, even though you tried to hide it."

"Lily went with James in the end, didn't she?  Married him with indecent haste.  His doing, I'm sure.  When he wanted something, he got it, and he wanted her."  He sifted and stirred again.  "I sometimes wonder if he wanted her only because she had chosen me for that little while. And when I disappeared when that mission for the Headmaster went wrong and everyone assumed I was dead, he made his move."

"Severus--"

"Remus, it was seventeen years ago this coming October and even if I had a Time Turner, I couldn't go back and change things.  Lily is gone along with James Potter, and their son is making my life miserable by being just like his father was.  The spoiled son of a famous family who gets away with whatever he wants, capitalizing on his celebrity."

"Harry's not like that, Severus, if you would only look at him instead of the image of James you see," Remus objected without heat.

"I have two full months without the dubious pleasure of his company, and I don't intend to spoil them by discussing him now or even thinking about him over the next eight weeks--" As Snape stirred in the newest minute addition of wolfsbane powder, the door to the classroom slammed open, crashing hard into the wall, and Peeves, laughing so maniacally that neither of the two men could make out his nasty little ditty, swooped into the room, whirled about in mid-air and threw a handful of something that glowed yellowish-green into the cauldron.

Remus was thrown backwards by the force of the explosion, which was so strong that it put most of Neville Longbottom's inadvertent efforts to shame. The room went black as his head struck the stone wall behind him.

* * * * *

Severus, as coated with the spoiled potion as Lupin was, had managed to roll when he hit the floor and didn't black out, but he could feel the magic of the fluid seeping into the skin of his hands and face, and more slowly where the soaked fabric of his robes touched his body.  He staggered to his feet and headed for the sinks to rinse it off, pulling his outer robe from him as he went.  Only a few steps away from the basins, he stopped dead, clutching at his head as excruciating pain ripped through it.  Body stiff, his knees gave way beneath him and he topped to the floor, a lean sprawl of black-clad limbs in a pool of reddish-brown elixer that continued to dribble from the side of the cracked cauldron.

The Bloody Baron, in pursuit of Peeves, swooped into the chamber and halted as he saw the two still bodies.  Silently he shot straight upward through the ceiling, heading for the North Tower and the Headmaster's Office.

To be continued. . . 


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**Author's Note:  **Yes, I know this is the same as in the original Chapter One, but I think it works better this way.  There's new stuff at the end of it too, so please don't bypass it because you may have read the first part before!

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter Three

July 2, 1995 

(Little Whinging, Surrey)

When Harry woke up, he half expected to find himself in the sunlit vastness of the Hogwart's Hospital Wing under the care of Madam Pomfrey.  "That must have been some Bludger," he dazedly thought as he opened his eyes.

But it wasn't the friendly environs of the school he saw, but the ecru plaster ceiling with the dangling light fixture of his room at the Dursleys'.  And even that looked peculiar, hazy and distorted.

Then he remembered. His glasses were broken and his vision worsened by the swelling around his left eye.  He raised his hand to gingerly touch the bruising and found himself abruptly nauseous from the pain that shot up his arm.  He curled up around himself, supporting the broken wrist as best he could with his other hand, gasping.  Even though he'd suffered worse pain from Quidditch injuries and his fights with Voldemort, this was different.  Here, there were no Dreamless Sleep or pain relieving or Skele-grow Potions to fix his hurts; no expertly wielded wands to fuse bone or magic away swelling and bruises.  

And far worse, while the Quidditch injuries were part of the accepted risk of the sport, and Voldemort was his dedicated enemy, and wounds from both sources were to be expected, these had come from family. . . They weren't the best family, but they were all he had left.  And, he admitted to himself, there was a secret inner part of him that hoped against hope each year that this time they would miraculously accept him--no--_love_ him, because he was their flesh and blood.

A sound ultimately distracted him from his misery.  As he listened, he caught unclear, but excited speech, muffled by the heavy door.  And was that laughter?  It was hard to tell.  He groaned as he rolled on his side and used his good arm to push himself into a sitting position.  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as his empty stomach roiled again.  He had no idea how long it had been since his fall.  Only that the brightness of the light coming in the window indicated day instead of dusk, and his head still throbbed, his back ached, his face still hurt and he needed to figure out what to do about his wrist.  Then, dimly remembering an old Muggle movie he'd once seen on television several years before, he awkwardly unbuttoned one of his shirt buttons and stuck his left forearm inside his shirt, the fabric creating a makeshift sling.  The movement nearly caused him to black out again, but once in place, it did help.  Harry took several deep breaths and then staggered to his feet, holding onto the wall for balance.  He took two steps and dropped abruptly to his knees as the room swirled about him.  An uncomfortable feeling in the side of his left thigh drew his attention as the scenery settled once more, and he reached across to find out what was jabbing him.

_My wand!  They didn't find it!_  He had to lean awkwardly to work the holly shaft from the hidden pocket but he was smiling when he had it clutched in his good hand.  It was something they didn't know about, and, hopefully, he could figure out how to fix his wrist up with it.  But not now, not while the Dursley's were about the house.

The noise from downstairs was getting louder, and Harry scrambled on his knees across the floor to shove his wand into the drawer of his desk among the broken pencils and dried out pens Dudley had discarded there.  He leaned against the desk and closed his eyes, listening, as the heavy thumps that were his cousin's footsteps approached the door then bypassed it, bounding into his own bedroom.  

"I can't believe it, Vernon! It's a dream come true!"  Petunia was virtually crowing as her high heeled patter moved down the length of the upstairs hallway toward the master bedroom.  "Who would have guessed that _we'd_ win the Pools!  Oh, I must pack your best suit!"

_Win the Pools?_  Harry blinked.  _I didn't even know Uncle Vernon played them!_

"You'll need a new dress, Petunia!  I won't have my family shaming me when I collect my winnings!"  Vernon sounded even more pompously smug than he usually did when talking about his wife and son.

"Oh, and dearest Dudleykins can wear his Smeltings uniform!"

Harry continued to listen to the celebratory chatter for several minutes until his position, leaning up against the side of the desk, stiffened his sore muscles so much that he just had to move.  He inadvertently shoved the desk chair, making it grate across the uncarpeted floor, bringing a sudden halt to the conversation outside the door.

"Harry. Vernon, what about _him_?"  Petunia's cheerful voice changed back to the sniping, irritated tone she always used when referring to Harry.  "I don't trust _him_ to be left here alone and we're certainly not taking him to Liverpool with us!"

"Of course not, my pet!  I know.  He can stay with Mrs. Figg." Vernon's voice darkened.  "And the boy will behave himself if he knows what's good for him."  

Suddenly, the bedroom door was yanked open, swinging out into the hallway. As Harry flinched away from his Uncle, a stray observation crossed his mind.  _They've rehung the door so I can't pull the hinge pins loose._ Then all thought fled as Harry found himself suspended by the shirt front, his toes barely brushing the floor, as Vernon dragged him up and out of the room.  His surroundings seemed to whirl about as the throbbing in his head got worse.

"Uncle Vernon--"  Harry abruptly found his feet on the tile floor of the bathroom, while Vernon turned him around and forced him to look in the mirror over the sink.

"You get cleaned up, boy.  You've got ten minutes.  Then we're going to go over the story you're going to tell Mrs. Figg until you get it right.  If you learn fast, I might even let you eat something tonight."  Vernon left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Harry to lean against the porcelain sink.

He swallowed hard at the sight of his reflection.  His left eye was horribly discolored and swollen.  He turned on the cold tap--his Aunt would have a fit if he used up all the hot water.  Awkwardly, trying not to jar his broken wrist, he soaked a washcloth and gingerly pressed it against the side of his face.  After the first moment, the coolness felt good, easing the pain in his cheekbone and eye socket.  

His ten minutes were up far too quickly and he found himself whisked back into the room crammed with Dudley's broken toys and electronic equipment, while his Uncle sat on the spindly desk chair.  The part of Harry that had been corrupted by Fred and George Weasley rather hoped it would collapse under the heavyset man, but the more sensible part--knowing that he'd be the one punished--prayed it wouldn't.  

"You were hurt in a fight at school and are still recovering, got that, boy?  You're too ill to travel all the way to Liverpool, so we're reluctantly leaving you with Mrs. Figg.  That's not so hard to remember. And if I find you've said anything else about it to anyone, you're going to feel even more sorry than you are now. And get your stupid arm out of that shirt."

Harry yelped as Vernon grabbed his broken wrist and yanked it from its already minimal support.  His knees gave out beneath him and he was mortified to find himself sobbing from the renewed pain.  Mr. Dursley dropped Harry's arm as if he'd been burnt and stared for a moment.  Then, before the fourteen year old could react, Vernon grabbed for the wrist once more, turning it to look at the purple mark left by the Smeltings stick.  Ignoring Harry's reaction to the shifting of his bones from the motion, Vernon's too-close-set eyes flickered as he thought hard.  He finally spoke, once more releasing the fractured limb.  "You get the story straight, Potter, or I'll have Dudley break your other arm."

Harry barely heard him slam the door and lock it.

* * * * *

July 2, 1995 

(Hogwarts)

_She was smiling at him, glad to see him, rushing into his arms, and virtually dancing around him in her happiness.  He greeted her with a tight embrace and a deep kiss that seemed to draw from him his very soul.  She was like light in his arms and in his heart, chasing away the darkness that had been filling them for years, chasing away even the images of Lord Voldemort and the broken promises he'd made to the young Slytherin three years before.  New promises filled him and he reveled in them. . . promises of eternal companionship, promises of faithfulness, promises of love._

_The long disused classroom had become their haven from the outside world--from the Darkness that continued to rise, spreading terror and heartbreak, and from the more petty intrusions of curious and disapproving friends or Housemates.  Over the last several months, they'd cautiously furnished it with castoffs from their respective common rooms and bits of discarded furniture from other deserted classrooms.  Their couch was a pleasant pile of emerald and ruby cushions, many threadbare, and their carpet was a ragged and torn banner bearing an ancient version of the Hogwarts crest.  She'd bribed the House Elves to leave the room alone, and begged the ends of candles from them as well, to illuminate their private space.  Dozens of the stubby wax bits were stuck to various surfaces, alight with dancing golden light that caught the flame of her hair and reflected in the green of her eyes._

_"I was so worried about you.  And when you weren't at breakfast this morning I thought I'd die," she whispered into the soft fabric of his robes as she rested her head above his heart._

_"I was giving my report to the Headmaster.  And all I could think of was getting through the meeting and my classes to meet you here.  Lily, you're the reason I come back each time.  Only you."  He ran his hands down her long hair stroking gently before continuing to caress her lithe back._

_"Love me, Severus.  Let me feel you living, let me feel you inside me."_

_"There's not enough time, love.  They'll be looking for you to watch them practice their Quidditch and cheer on their bad jokes."  Reluctantly, he put her away from him, only to be dragged back into a tight hug._

_She laughed lightly.  "I sort of let them think that I'm not feeling well, cramps and so forth.  James is terribly squeamish about hearing about 'female' things, so he dragged Sirius and Remus out to the Quidditch pitch so fast that I think he left scorch marks on the common room carpet."_

_Severus laughed and nuzzled her neck where it met her shoulder, slipping his hands across her body, touching her where he'd learned she liked best as he guided them slowly across the room to the pile of cushions.  By the time they were kneeling amidst the velvet covered pillows, urgent hands had already begun to remove clothing, seeking the loved flesh beneath.  "You're turning into quite a devious lady, my Lily. Worthy of a Slytherin." His mouth feasted on hers for a long moment before he spoke again, gasping as her hands touched him intimately.  "Are you certain that you weren't Sorted into the wrong House?"_

_"Only if you were as well.  You've become as brave, if not braver than any Gryffindor.  Oh, love me, my lion.  Love me now!"_

"Severus!"  The voice cut into his mind, interrupting the glorious feelings that he dimly recognized had been dormant for so terribly long.  "Severus!  You _must_ wake up!"

He tried to slip back into that secret tower room where his love had wrapped herself around him and brought him so much ecstasy and joy, but there were more voices intruding, and the sensations retreated until he finally realized that it wasn't reality he'd been experiencing, but a memory.  A memory as fresh and painfully clear as if the events were only moments past, instead of nearly two decades.

He felt moisture on his face and wondered what had wet it.

"Severus." The voice was the Headmaster's.  "You must come back to us now." Something was wiping his cheeks, wiping his closed lids.  

Tears.  They were tears from his own eyes--he who had not cried in decades--was awash with the brine of sorrow and pain.  A howl of anguish tore from his throat as he realized what had been lost, as he caught flashes of images of memories that he'd not known were in his head; experiences of joy and love that had somehow been sealed away from him, leaving him in an emotional desert of rage and frustration.  "_LILY!"_

To be continued . . .__


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter Four

July 2, 1995, near dawn 

* * * * *

"What exactly happened down there?" Pomfrey asked as she handed Remus a thick ceramic mug filled with steaming chocolate.  "I could feel the reverberation all the way up here."  The first fingers of dawn were lighting up the ward through the great clerestory windows.

Gingerly touching the back of his head where the mediwitch had expertly healed a crack in his skull and applied a Healing Potion, Remus frowned.  "I'm not exactly sure.  We were finishing up the Wolfsbane Potion--got about half of the powder mixed into it--when Peeves charged in and threw something into the cauldron.  It exploded as if someone had set off one of Filibuster's Fireworks.  The blast knocked me clear across the room and into the stone wall.  I don't know what happened after that until I woke up here.  How's Severus?  Did he manage to duck in time?  I was never good at getting out of the way of Potions disasters."

"Well, he did manage to avoid a fractured skull," she answered cryptically. "Finish up your chocolate and go to sleep again.  I'll be checking on you and if you don't show any side effects of the blow to your head, I'll let you loose around lunchtime."  She nodded her head towards the mug then added, "Drink up," before collecting her equipment and whisking around the curtain towards the sluiceroom and her office.

Remus obediently sipped at the medicinally rich mixture and settled back into the pillows of the hospital bed, wondering why she had rushed away without answering his questions.  The aroma of the cocoa filled his sensitive nose, soothing him, but he could still smell the acrid tang of the adulterated potion that had splashed all over him.  Poppy had removed his soaked clothing and had cleaned the stuff from his skin and hair, but enough had penetrated to give him an annoying scent.  Perhaps no one else could tell, but to his nose he smelled the way the Wolfsbane potion tasted.  _What was it that made it explode like that?  Whatever it was it certainly was glowing, almost the same shade as those flameless torches that Filch uses when he's working around really flammable things.  Hmmmmm._

As he finished off the chocolate and began to slide down against the pillows to sleep some more, voices beyond the curtain from the other end of the ward caught his attention and he sat up straight, listening intently.

"I will not lay about here like an invalid, Poppy!  I have work to do and I intend to get it done!"

"Severus, we don't know what that potion did to you!  You were raving half the night, and I'm concerned that you've got some sort of closed-head injury from hitting the floor." The mediwitch's voice was as reasonable as Snape's was angry.

"I _didn't_ hit my head!  And I wasn't raving!"  Remus could imagine the offended expression in Severus' eyes.

"You don't call screaming out the name of a woman who has been dead for more than thirteen years raving? Albus, he really should stay here for observation; what if he collapses again? It's not as if a student would be able to find him, like in term time!"

The Headmaster's voice, softer than either of the two combatants, soothed her. "Poppy, the only way we're going to find out what happened is if Severus can examine the potion and determine what the reaction was.  I certainly don't have the skill to do so, and you, while excellent at Healing Potions and such, don't have the research skills necessary to deconstruct it.  Let Severus return to his rooms--on the understanding that he _must_ eat and rest regularly and check in with you about any sort of change in his condition."

There was silence for a moment then Severus growled that he'd keep to those conditions.  Poppy hemmed and hawed for a bit, then reluctantly agreed.

"Good!" Dumbledore said, almost too enthusiastically to Remus' ears.  "Poppy, I'll walk him down to his rooms, you don't need to bother."

"All right," she replied grudgingly, "but I'll be sending down a House Elf to check on you every so often!  I don't trust you not to ignore dangerous symptoms, Severus."

"Just hand me a robe.  I have no intention of walking about this place in these bloody pajamas, even if there are no students about to see me."  Remus silently snickered at the mental image that comment engendered.

"Keep me posted on Remus' condition, Poppy."

"Oh, I'm nowhere as worried about _him_, Albus!  _He_ listens to me when I tell him to stay in bed and go to sleep!" she shot back acerbicly.

Snape snorted and Remus heard his slippered feet stalk towards the door.

"I'll see you at lunch, Poppy." The Headmaster hurried after the Potions Master and the door to the wing closed quietly behind him.

The werewolf sighed and buried his face in his pillow, closing his eyes to the brightening light of the early morning.  As sleep took him, a phrase from the overheard conversation floated across his mind.  _"The name of a woman who has been dead for more than thirteen years."  Merlin's beard, could she have meant Lily?_

_*_ * * * *

"I don't need an escort, Albus."  Snape's voice had retained the sharpness he'd used in his conflict with Pomfrey.  "I'm not an invalid, regardless of what Poppy thinks."

"I never said you were.  But I would like a longer look at the remains of your workroom.  We were rather more concerned with getting you and Remus appropriate help than the details of the incident."  Dumbledore rummaged in a pocket of his sweeping robe and withdrew a small bag labeled with Honeyduke's logo.  "Lemon sherbet?" he offered.

Severus shook his head, frowning at the stone floor they paced, and the Headmaster returned the bag to his pocket after selecting one of the sweets.

" A knut for your thoughts?"

"They aren't worth that much.  I'm trying to figure out just what Peeves threw in the cauldron to make such a spectacular explosion.  It was a rather bright greenish-golden yellow, I remember that much."

"Hmmmmm," Dumbledore nodded his head.  "There really aren't too many things of that colour that are reactive."

Severus looked up, a bit of a grin curving the corner of his lip.  "I thought you said you were no good at Potions?"

"Well, I can't hang around you without picking _something _up. Manticore." Dumbledore released the wards he'd put into place when they'd taken Severus and Remus to the infirmary.  "Gracious, it is quite a mess, isn't it?"  He bent over and picked up a toppled stool.

Snape grunted as he took in the room.  The spilled potion looked like extremely thick dried blood on the floor, and he could see where it had congealed on most of the flat surfaces.  "_Accio_ cleaning supplies!"  He slipped his wand back into the sleeve of the dark green robe he wore as a mop, bucket and scrub brush flew out of a cupboard in the corner of the room.  "I don't want the House Elves touching this.  I don't know what it might do to them."

"Severus, we don't know what it did to _you_!"

"We'll find out."  He went across the room and pulled a boxful of large glass vials from a lower shelf that had managed to escape the destruction.  "I'll take what's left in the cauldron and evaluate it later.  The first priority is getting Remus' Wolfsbane Potion done.  He's running out of time."

_"We're running out of time, Severus.  They're expecting me back for the Prefect's meeting." _

_"You'll make it.  Besides, they can't do anything until the Head Girl gets there.  I just wanted to show you something."  He pulled her by the hand into an old, abandoned classroom.  "What do you think?"_

_"What is this?" She stared wide-eyed at the tower room and the tall windows that overlooked the frozen lake. He stared at her.  Even in the dusty, cobwebbed chamber, she glowed like a jewel to his eyes._

_"It can be our place.  I've cast a Glamour over the door.  Only you or I can perceive it.  I'm tired of dodging into shadowed niches in the hallways to avoid the Golden Boy and his fan club.  What do you think?"_

_"I think that my boyfriend is a very clever wizard!"  She laughed, staring up into his face, drawing forth an unaccustomed smile from him._

_"I know it needs cleaning up and some stuff to make it more comfortable, but we'll finally have some privacy." He looped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her parted lips.   "I love you, Lily."_

_"Oh, Severus," she sighed._

"Severus?"  Dumbledore was peering up at him, concerned.  "Where did you go just now?  You aren't being called?"

Snape shook his head.  "No.  I just--remembered--something."  He put the box of bottles down on a clear table and rummaged for a ladle and glass funnel in one of the equipment drawers.  

"Ah."  

The Potions Master pulled on a pair of dragonhide gloves and began to carefully fill the vials with the ruined potion.  He apparently didn't hear the Headmaster's response.  Then, as he turned to fill the next bottle, a new vision flashed before him, and he didn't see his sleeve catch on the just filled container, knocking it over to spill anew across the table. 

_They were older and not wearing school robes.  But they were at Hogwarts, in their tower chamber and Lily was sobbing, her face buried in her hands.  He stood silently by the bespelled door.  Three months it had been since he'd seen her, three months of pain and terror as he tried to get back to Hogwarts from the devastation of a failed mission to rescue the family of an Auror who had been targeted by Voldemort.  He limped forward and called her name.  "Lily?"  His voice was hoarse with the desire and longing for her that had been the main thing driving him to get home, to avoid the Auror squads and the Deatheaters alike as he crossed England and Scotland, unable to Apparate, and with no access to a Floo network._

_Her head jerked up and she stared at him, an expression of disbelief on her face.  "Severus!"  She leaped to her feet and flew into his arms. "They told me you weren't coming back!  That you were lost forever!" she wailed, pounding on his chest with her fists.  He smoothed her tangled red hair and kissed the top of her head, the only part he could reach as she had buried her face in his shirtfront._

_"I'll always come back to you, Lily.  Nothing short of death would keep me away."  He caught her hands easily in his and smiled tiredly down at her.  "Don't cry, Lily.  Please, don't cry." _

_She shook her head, not looking up at him.  "They told me you were dead; they'd seen your body."  She started to pull away from him, and he clasped her hands tighter._

_"Who said--?"  His voice trailed off as he felt cold metal on the ring finger of her left hand. "Lily?"_

_She jerked her hand from his and retreated from him, backing away as his face went cold and his black eyes went flat. "They said you were dead," she repeated.  The tear tracks on her face glistened as fresh tears renewed them.  "Severus."_

_"I told you before I left that I'd return to you.  And THIS is how little faith you had in me?  Who is it?  Black?  That damned werewolf? Potter?"  He advanced on her angrily.  "What's your new name, Lily?" Enraged at the perceived betrayal, he cornered her against the window seats and trapped her there with his arms on either side of her body._

_"You don't understand!" She gasped as he grabbed her left wrist in a bruising grip._

_"I understand that you are sealed forever to someone else with unbreakable vows.  Were all those words of love you gave to me only lies?  How many others have you been stringing along like me?"_

_"No one!" she cried out "Severus, I'm pregnant!"_

_He stared down into her despairing green eyes and released her wrist, leaving an angry red mark about the limb, before striding toward the door. _

_"It's YOUR child, Severus.  I'm three months along." Her sobbing voice dragged him to a halt.  _

_Without looking at her he asked, his voice as cold as ice,  "And if it is?"  He whirled around again.  "Why get married to someone else? Why just cast me aside?  Why?"_

_"I was afraid!" Lily cried out.  "Three days after you left Dumbledore told me that you were dead!  Caught in that Auror's trap and killed by a stray Aveda Kedavra curse!  I DIED that day!" She took in a deep gasping breath. "Then two weeks later, I missed my period.  I did the Conceptio Charm and found out I was pregnant.  I was alone, and afraid, and I didn't want to go on.  I just wanted to join you.  James found me on top of the Astronomy Tower and talked me down."  She buried her face in her hands again, her following words muffled.  "I didn't mean to tell him about the baby, but it just came out, and he told me that he'd make it right. He didn't even ask who the father was.  He told me I needed to live for the baby's sake.  He went to Albus, and I found myself married within the week."  Lily looked up sniffling.  "We leave tomorrow for his ancestral home.  I came up here to--to say--goodbye."  Her green eyes pleaded with him to forgive her._

_He stared down at her, feeling the briars enclosing his heart once more.  Once again, fate had cheated him.  Offering with one hand and taking away with the other. He should have known better to expect that the bliss would last.  "Then, goodbye, Lily."  He turned and walked from the room, not caring who might see him emerge from an apparently blank wall, seeking only an escape from the pain that wracked him as his dreams were shattered by the well-meaning efforts of a man he despised._

Pain filled his hand as Snape tore free of the memory, shards of glass embedded deep in his palm from the crushed bottle.  He stared hollow-eyed with shock across the table at the alarmed Dumbledore and said hoarsely, "He's not Potter's son."  

To be continued

**Author's Note:** Yes, there are overtones of "The Princess Bride" in this one.  I watched it recently, and no matter how many times I went back over the memory vision, Lily kept insisting on speaking Buttercup's line!  You may notice that the memories don't seem to be in chronological order.  In my Psych class when we discussed memory storage and retrieval, I learned that memories are stored randomly all over the brain, and it made sense to me that they'd emerge in some sort of random order now that they're showing up.  Yes, Starlight, this answers a challenge to write a fic where one of the required points is that Snape is revealed to be Harry's father.  Severitus has the requirements of the challenge at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=647935. Emma, as you can see, my chapters are intended to link up.  Just not as obviously and as quickly as most of the challenge fics do.  Thanks to all of my patient reviewers.  Since I'm a mother of five kids, and a full time college student, I have to fit my fic writing into what little spare time I do have, so I don't get to update quite as frequently as I'd like to.  I'm still transcribing the stuff I handwrote over my four days in Missouri for this story and I hope that you'll like the twists and turns that you'll find in it!  Cheers!


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter Five

_July 2, 1995, midmorning_

(Hogwarts)

The liquid that hadn't spilled from the damaged cauldron was finally sealed into more than a dozen glass vials, each marked with warnings and labeled "Do Not Touch!" in blood red letters. On the table farthest away from the initial attempt, he had another batch of Wolfsbane potion going, waiting for it to boil down to the correct consistency to add the reddish powder.   The floor was spotless and the damaged cauldron cleaned and shrunk for disposal.  He'd buried himself in work, ignoring Pomfrey's commands to eat and rest, trying his hardest not to think of the incredible revelation he'd had.  Nor about the look on Dumbledore's face as he'd blurted out the words about Harry Potter's parentage.  

The old man had actually flinched before slipping back behind his genial mask as Severus expressed his horrified astonishment.  After cleaning the broken glass from the Potion Master's hand and pouring a vial of Healing Potion over the cuts, the Headmaster had made his excuses and left him alone in the room with his frantic thoughts and memories.

_Has everything I've been since back then been false?_  Snape held his aching head in his hands.  _What happened to me?  Why? And how did that botched potion break down whatever was keeping these memories from me?_

One by one_, _memories drifted out of the back of his mind, some faint and blurred with age, others brilliant and shining like a new silver cauldron--and all of them about Lily and his love for her--triggered by the sight of a quill and parchment note on a table--_Darling Sev, meet me at the end of the Charms corridor tonight. L._--or the scent of the carved cedar box that had held his wax and seal for years--_"Happy Christmas, Severus. I hope you like it."_

He began to cross the room to check on the simmering potion and suddenly gasped as a new vision burst into being behind his eyes, forcing him to sink onto a nearby stool to keep from falling.  

_"I wish you would let me tell them. I hate hearing them call you a Deatheater. If only they realized what you are really doing," Lily's soft fingers stroked his shoulders as she tried to help him get over the after effects of a Crucio cast on him that night. "Then they'd be accepting of us being together and we could quit hiding from them--stop lying to them." _

_"Dear heart, do you really trust Black to keep a secret like this? He'll lose his temper over something and the next thing you know, he'll blurt it out to the wrong person and I'm as good as dead. He turned in her embrace and wrapped his arms around her. "It's bad enough when I get punished for not being as 'effective' as Voldemort wants me to be. But I don't want his flunkies going after you as a means to keep me in line. They tortured McCaffrey's children last night. Two five-year-old girls swept from their beds to be an object lesson to their parent."   _

_He shuddered, his dark eyes squeezed shut, hating himself for not being able to stop it, hearing their screams of terror and pain that lasted far too long before they were released, before they were dropped, broken and bleeding into their front yard under a Dark Mark.  _

_Lily curled up around him, clinging to him as her tears wet his bare chest. "I wish I had known you, really known you before they got hold of you. I'd have fought them tooth and nail to keep you from having to suffer that mark on your arm."  _

_"It only reflects the stain on my soul," he whispered unhappily into her hair. _

_She jerked back in his grasp and glared up at him.  "You purged that stain the day you came back to Dumbledore! The day you turned against the Dark Lord!  _

_"You're the reason I came back, Lily. Only your light got through the darkness to let me see my way back."_   

A low moan fought its way from Snape's throat as the painfully sharp impressions of the memory faded away into the back of his mind, but now retrievable. He choked off the sound, not wanting anyone to possibly hear his distress. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head began to throb once more.  

"Three more hours of work on the potion and I can go take a hefty dose of Dreamless Sleep," he muttered as he got back to his unsteady feet and headed over to the cauldron and the waiting bowl of Wolfsbane powder. "And when I wake up I will personally go in search of that damned Poltergeist and help the Baron nail him to the Trophy Room ceiling!"  

"Oh, I don't think that would be a good addition to the décor at all, Severus."

Snape whirled around to face the door and met the Headmaster's blue eyes.  The kindness in them seemed tainted with something darker, like regret, and he turned his attention back to the measuring spoon and stirring rod.  "The staff room then."

"Then Minerva would complain about it.  Severus."  The gentle voice was insistent on his attention and he turned back to find Dumbledore had produced a gracefully carved shallow stone bowl and laid it on the table next to him.  "I know that you've refused to use a Pensieve in the past, but I think that you may want to reconsider."

"You know how I feel about having all of my private thoughts in a place where others can access them.  It's too dangerous. A security risk."

"And I think that if you don't use it, your sanity will be at risk."  Albus looked down at the Pensieve and sighed.  "At least think about it."

"I need to get this potion finished, Headmaster."  _I don't want to think about this now--or ever!  It hurts too much!_  His fingers were white-knuckled on the stirring rod.

"I'll let Remus know that he'll have his potion on time."  Dumbledore paused at the doorway before he left the room.  "Don't shut me out, Severus.  At least not for long."

Snape positioned himself with his back towards the Pensieve and focused on dissolving the Wolfsbane powder and trying to keep his concentration such that he was able to hold the erupting memories at bay until the job was finally finished.  Bottled and labeled with shaking hands, Lupin's potion was neatly arranged in the center of the desk by the time the bell that indicated lunch was being served chimed throughout the castle.  

Unwilling to leave such a valuable item as the Pensieve sitting in the lab despite the locks and wards, he reluctantly picked it up and carried it through the secret entrance to his private apartment, where he set it on a corner table and covered it with an extra blanket from his bed.  Not even bothering to kick off his shoes or to remove the green bathrobe he still wore over the pajamas in which Madame Pomfrey had dressed him, he fell across his mattress, pulled the green velvet curtains closed and sank into darkness.  Darkness laced with dreams. . . 

* * * * *

_July 2, 1995, afternoon_

(Little Whinging, Surrey)

_He put up his arms to protect his face as Dudley swung the stick at him.  The snap of breaking bone in his wrist echoed in his ears even as he felt himself falling backwards into the stairwell.  Bright flashes of red filled his head as his body hit the treads on the way down, each impact hurting a new bit of anatomy until he came to a sprawling halt at his uncle's feet.  He stared up in horror as Vernon loomed over him, heavy meaty hands reaching for him, the moustached mouth working wordlessly as his piggy eyes bugged out in rage.  He tried to squirm away, to escape the maddened man, to no effect, feeling as if he'd been bound to the floor by invisible ropes or a Bindus charm.  As the hands approached his face, Harry screamed, for they changed, going longer and more slender, the pink flesh transforming to deadly white and his uncle's fat face melted away into the taut flesh of a lipless mouth and slit nose, the pale blue watery eyes transforming into orbs of blood red.  There was a wand in one of the hands and the mouth parted to speak. "Avedra--"_

Harry's shriek of terror echoed around the bedroom, tearing him from the nightmare to lay gasping for breath, his heart pounding so hard as to shake his thin frame, and his clothing soaked with the perspiration of fear.  He turned his face away from the sunlight that shone into the barred window and wondered if he could even manage to get to his knees much less his feet.  He compromised by hitching himself up against the side of the desk, resting the back of his head against the wood, his broken wrist in his lap.  As he got his breathing under control, he listened carefully for any sign that the scream had drawn the attention of his relatives.  But, save for the sound of lazy birdsong outside the barred window, the house was silent.  Aunt Petunia was probably out getting that new dress and Dudley was probably with her, or maybe with his friends. His uncle must be at work, gloating about the pools win.  

_Uncle Vernon and Voldemort. I don't know which one scares me more._  He blinked his eyes, uselessly trying to clear the nearsighted blurriness.  His glasses were still in pieces and he didn't think there would be anything useful in the debris of the room that would fix them. As he squinted he came up with a blurred image of a tray with a single cracked cup and a lump of something that looked like it had once been a breakfast roll, which was on the floor by the flap in the bottom of the closed door.  

When he crawled painfully across the floor to the tray, he ignored the rock-hard roll, and carefully clasped the cup in his good hand.  The water was lukewarm, indicating that it had been sitting there for quite some time in the muggy July heat, but it was moisture and even though he wanted to just gulp it down to quench the thirst that had built up in him, he sipped at it, letting it soak into the dry tissues of his mouth and throat.  He had no idea when his aunt and uncle would provide more, so he had to make it last.

"I wish I were back at Hogwarts. Even Potions class with Snape is better than this," Harry muttered as he looked at the bit of blue sky visible through the window.  "And at least then I'd know that Hedwig was safe.  What did they do to you, Hedwig?"  His head still throbbed and to take his mind off of it and his worry about his beloved owl, he began to recite the names of Charms he'd learned over the previous four years.  "To levitate, _Wingardium Leviosa.  _To immobilize, _Petrificus Totalitus.  _To disarm, _Expelliarimus." _When he ran out of Charms, he moved on to the Latin names of magical plants, and then to Potions ingredients.  "Wormwood.  Asphodel.  Boomslang Skin.  Unicorn Horn."  His voice faded away, first into mutters and then into silence as he fell asleep once more.

"Get up, you useless layabout!"  It was Aunt Petunia's shrill voice that jarred him from his sleep.  "You've got ten minutes to get cleaned up and you've wasted three of them already." She glared at him as he staggered to his feet, then she swept down the hall toward her bedroom where she slammed the door closed behind her.

Harry closed the bathroom door and sagged against it, as the world swayed about him.  Turning on the tap, he thrust his face under the cold water flow and gulped greedily.  The frigid water made his teeth hurt and his guts tighten but he continued to drink, filling up before he straightened and peered at himself in the mirror.  The bruising on his face had continued to darken and it was no wonder that his vision was blurrier than usual.  His left eye was half-closed by the swelling.  He shook his head, wincing, then opened the medicine cabinet to pull out the toothpaste.  He never did get his teeth brushed that night, because resting on the shelf above the crinkled tube, he saw a rolled up elastic bandage.  

When Petunia had come pounding on the bathroom door two minutes later, Harry limped out of the bathroom holding his broken arm close to his body.  She barely let him get back inside his room before she slammed and locked the door on him.  As the young wizard sank down on the bed, he lifted his left arm slightly away from his side, letting the bandage roll drop to the mattress.  Using a broken ruler for a splint, he wrapped up the swollen wrist as securely as he could, immobilizing it, and easing the pain.

"When I get back to Hogwarts, I'm going to go thank Madam Pomfrey a million times over for how well she's fixed me up over the last four years!" he promised himself as he tried to ignore the aromas of fried chicken, chips and a variety of sauces and vegetable that permeated the house.  His stomach growled and he went back into his quiet litany of magical terms to take his mind away from 4 Privet Drive.

* * * * *

_July 2, 1995, evening_

(Hogwarts)

Severus clawed his way out of slumber, trying to escape the images that were bombarding him.  The released memories were overwhelming and as he re-experienced the episodes from the two years that had been the happiest of his life, he alternately raged over and mourned their loss over the barren years between then and the present.

He lay staring up at the shadowed canopy of his bed, not seeing the draped velvet but Lily's tearstained face the day he'd walked out on her betrayal of their dreams.  At the time he'd only been able to see only the betrayal, not the anguish in her eyes as she realized that she was trapped.  Golden Boy Potter, apprenticed to the DADA instructor, just as he, himself, had been apprenticed to the old Potions Master, stepped in to save the day, to become a hero yet again, protecting the good name of the Muggle-born witch, and taking the love child of Severus Snape and Lily Evans as his own.

He'd seen them afterwards, once or twice when they came to visit Dumbledore in the course of James' secret work with the Headmaster and others who were trying to find new ways to effectively fight against the Dark   Memories he'd never lost. The Halloween after her marriage, Lily had stopped in to visit Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, while he was delivering a new batch of healing potions to the mediwitch.  She had been cuddling a three-month-old Harry as she came through the door, caroling out Poppy's name.  He could still recall the look of shock on her face as she'd rounded the curtain that shielded the office and the apothecary from the main ward to find him looming by the counter.  He'd sneered at her with contempt, he remembered, glowering at the black-haired baby in her arms, then swept from the room, wanting nothing to do with anything or anyone that had to do with James Potter--not caring about the hurt that backed her emerald eyes.  

_But I didn't know he was my son._  Severus rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing the bed curtains open to stare out into the dimly lit room.  _By then, my memories were already hidden from me.  By whom?_  

He found his eyes going to the blanket-covered Pensieve.  Maybe Dumbledore was right.  Until he got this sorted out, he'd be of no use to anyone.  He stood up and carried the stone basin to the desk, seated himself in the upright chair and picked up his wand.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and touched the end of the thin shaft to his temple, drawing forth the silvery threads.

To be continued

**Author's Note:**  Thanks for all the nice reviews! 


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter Six

_July 4, 1995_

(Hogwarts)

Remus pushed at the partially open office door and walked in without knocking. "Severus?" He was surprised to find the professor bent over his desktop, wand in hand.  "Are you all right?"

Snape finished drawing a silvery thread from his temple and dropped it into the stone basin before him, then looked up and growled, "You'd think after all these years, you'd finally remember that I prefer visitors to knock and wait for admittance than to simply barge in here uninvited."

"I am invited.  You told Albus that I should come and pick up my potion before I leave with Sirius."

"Black's not with you?"  Snape's eyes darted toward the fully open door and he half-covered what Remus now recognized as a Pensieve.

"No, he's in the Great Hall, having breakfast with Albus.  What are you doing?  You once told me you didn't believe in using Pensieves."  While he knew it was rude, he couldn't help being curious about the thoughts that Severus was storing away.  His amber eyes flickered toward the bowl and then back to the glittering black ones that faced him across the desk.

"Something's happened to change my mind--in more ways than one," Severus muttered.  He laid his wand on the desktop and cradled his head in his hands.  "Have you been having--memories--pop up unexpectedly since Peeves dropped the Glowjelly into the Wolfsbane Potion?"  

"Er, no, I don't think so.  Poppy's been asking me the same question, but I thought it was because she was concerned about the skull fracture from when I hit the wall.  You didn't bash yourself, did you?"  Remus dropped into the upright visitor's chair and leaned forward, his forearms propped on his thighs, his hands loosely clasped before him.  "Glowjelly?  That's what he dumped into it?"

Snape nodded.  "Yesterday, Filch was complaining about how half of the flameless lanterns were empty.  He accused the departing students, but I suspect it was Peeves who removed the substance.  It's really the only thing of the right color and luminosity that fits what I saw."

"It figures.  So, that's what caused it to blow up then."

"Partly. I believe that the instability of the mixture was the main problem.  We hadn't finished adding the Wolfsbane, and until that part of the process was done, the Potion would be reactive until all the ingredients were in balance.  If he'd dropped in a strand of hair at that point, it would have probably gone up."  Snape shook his head.  "I'll do some deconstruction on the remains over the holiday and figure out just why it's causing this to happen."

"Causing _what_ to happen?" Remus asked.  "What's going on with you?  You look like you haven't slept in days, and, frankly, you look like you've gotten some rather devastating news."

"I'm remembering."

"Remembering _what_?"

Severus hesitated a moment, seemed to steel himself then picked up his wand and prodded the contents of the Pensieve.  "Remembering Lily,"  he said softly.  He reached across the desk and touched the werewolf's shoulder as he did so, and Remus felt himself falling--

--Into the Library. He started as he realized that Severus was standing next to him against a set of shelves, watching a dark-haired young man and a auburn-haired young woman seated on the window seat beneath one of the mullioned windows, a heavy book across his lap and a notebook on hers.  He blinked and gasped as he recognized the couple.  "Lily!"  Snape raised a hand to hush him then folded his arms, staring across the short distance between them and the students.  His black eyes were glistening, and his expression settled into lines of unhappiness.  Remus looked at the pair and listened.

_"When Professor Wellington told me two months ago that you were going to be tutoring me in Potions, I was so upset."  Lily tickled her chin with the end of her quill and glanced sidewise at him, smiling.  "But now I'm awfully glad he did!  Not only am I getting good marks, I've discovered that you're nothing like Sirius and James say you are."_

_"I'm just hoping that the Three Musketeers and their tagalong don't come looking for you right now.  I can imagine what they'd say if they saw us sitting like this."_

_"They know I'm here studying with my Potions tutor.  They don't need to know the details, but since they'd have a fit knowing it was you, that's why I like to study with you while they're having Quidditch practice."  She snuggled up against his side.  "Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend, Severus? I was thinking I could meet you behind Honeyduke's after I ditch the guys.  I'll buy you a Butterbeer while they're picking up their ammunition for the Halloween Feast at Zonko's."_

The Library abruptly swirled away in a flash of silver, and Remus found himself and the professor in a shadowed niche in the dungeon passageway.  Stunned to find out that his school friend had been meeting with Severus without anyone else's knowledge, he was surprised when a darker shadow detached from the niche in which they stood.  Then, abruptly, a shimmer appeared in the air before them and the figure of the younger Snape was taking the waiting person into his arms.  The cloak that hung halfway off of his shoulders looked like a silvery waterfall in the dim light that spilled from torches further down the corridor.

_"Lily, if you're caught down here, you'll be in so much trouble, even if you are Head Girl."  Sev draped the Invisibility Cloak over his arm and drew her back into the niche.  "We can't keep hoping that Filch won't be around here."_

_"Then find us a better place, one that we both can get to easily." She drew his head down to hers and kissed him so deeply that a moan of desire whispered through the shadows.  "I'm tired of having to snatch moments like this.  I want to spend hours wrapped in your arms."_

_"You think I don't want that?" He tasted her lips again.  "I'll find a place for us, that no one else can see. I only wish you could stay for the Christmas holiday."_

_Glee filled her voice. "That's why I needed to see you tonight, I couldn't wait until tomorrow to tell you!  Petunia is going to spend Christmas with her fiancé's family, and Dad is taking Mum to Italy on a second honeymoon.  So I'll be here after all!"_

Again there came a swirl of silver and Remus fell into another memory.  He couldn't wrap his mind around what he was seeing.  He remembered that people had teased Severus about his crush on Lily back in their Seventh year, but he certainly had no idea that it was more than that, and that the red-haired Gryffindor reciprocated the affection with the Slytherin.     

He looked at Severus and saw the sallow color go out of his face, leaving him even paler than usual.  Snape's hand on his shoulder clenched tightly and Remus winced even as he looked at the new scene.  It was a tower room, furnished in usable cast-offs and a pile of red and green cushions, illuminated by stubs of candles.  A slightly older version of Lily was standing in the middle of the room, tears wet on her face, and the counterpart of Snape, garbed in worn and tattered clothing stood before her, holding her hands, one of which had a gold band on it.

_She jerked her hand from his and retreated from him, backing away. "They said you were dead," The tear tracks on her face glistened as fresh tears renewed them.  "Severus." Her voice was full of pain._

_"I told you before I left that I'd return to you.  And THIS is how little faith you had in me?  Who is it?  Black?  That damned werewolf? Potter?"  He advanced on her angrily.  "What's your new name, Lily?" Enraged, he cornered her against the window seats and trapped her there with his arms on either side of her body._

"You don't understand!" She gasped as he grabbed her left wrist in a bruising grip.

_"I understand that you are sealed forever to someone else with unbreakable vows.  Were all those words of love you gave to me lies?  How many others have you been stringing along like me?"_

_"No one!" she cried out. "Severus, I'm pregnant!"_

_He stared at her for a long moment then released her wrist, before striding toward the door. _

"It's YOUR child, Severus.  I'm three months along." Her sobbing voice dragged him to a halt.  

_Without looking at her he asked, his voice as cold as ice, hollow with lost hope,  "And if it is?"  He whirled around again.  "Why get married to someone else? Why just cast me aside?  Why?"_

_"I was afraid!" Lily cried out.  "Three days after you left Dumbledore told me that you were dead!  Caught in that Auror's trap and killed by a stray Aveda Kedavra curse!  I DIED that day!" She took in a deep gasping breath. "Then two weeks later, I missed my period.  I did the Conceptio Charm and found out I was pregnant.  I was alone, and afraid, and I didn't want to go on.  I just wanted to join you.  James found me on top of the Astronomy Tower and talked me down."  She buried her face in her hands.  "I didn't mean to tell him about the baby, but it just came out, and he told me that he'd make it right. He didn't even ask who the father was.  He told me I needed to live for the baby's sake.  He went to Albus, and I found myself married within the week."  Lily looked up sniffling.  "We leave tomorrow for his ancestral home.  I came up here to--to say--goodbye."  _

Remus watched the nineteen-year old Snape fling himself from the room after telling her goodbye in an expressionless voice then was abruptly back in the Potion Master's office, the Pensieve between them..  

Severus looked terribly shaken as he laid the wand down again, covering his eyes with his other hand and bowing his head.

Lupin opened his mouth three times before he could make the words come forth.  "Harry is_ your_ son?  Not James'?  But-but why haven't you told him?  All these years he could have had a home with you instead of those Muggle relatives of his!"

"I didn't know."  The Potions Master's voice was tired.

"What do you mean, you didn't know?" Remus snapped.  "I saw her tell you!"

Snape slammed his hands down on the desktop on either side of the Pensieve.  "I didn't have that memory until after the potion blew up.  Something about it broke down walls I never knew were there."

"But--"

"All I knew before this came back was that I'd had a crush on Lily and I hated it that she spent so much time with you four.  I remember tutoring her the first term of Seventh year, but nothing more than that.  All the rest of that year, and the first year of our apprenticeships--anything to do with her wasn't there. And then I came back from that botched mission right after New Year's in 1980, and she was married to Potter.  I assumed--"  He broke off suddenly.

"Severus, you need to tell Harry."

"Tell him what?  That he's the bastard offspring of an ex-Deatheater?  'Oh, by the way, James Potter isn't your father. I, the man who has made your life living hell for the past four years, hold that dubious honor.'" Snape snorted. "As if I would just pop up on his doorstep and admit to sleeping with his mother--oh, I'm sure _that_ would go over well.

"Well, you've never seemed to worry about other's reactions to you before. You've got to tell him!  You know how he is.  If he gets the notion to snoop around this office, he'd probably find this Pensieve and learn it on his own. Just imagine what a mess that would be--"

"As if I'd leave this out where he could access it.  And it would be just as bad a mess, as you put it, if I _were_ to tell him."  Snape shook his head. "Can you imagine what would happen were he to find out? Me? His _father_? You can't honestly expect that he'd be happy in the least. I am not the type of person that can be a father."

"Oh, so that's it."

"What?"

To be continued


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

Chapter Seven

July 4, 1995 

(Hogwarts)  
"You don't think you're worthy."  Remus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'll be astounded if you can think of anyone _less_ worthy. I was a Death Eater, Remus, I've done more evil than I can rightly remember when I was barely older than he is now!  I'm not worthy of being _anyone's _parent even if I did know how."  Severus subsided in his chair and muttered almost too quietly for Remus to hear, "And how do you think _he_ would feel?"

"Sorry?"

"You've obviously taken a liking to him.  What do you think it would do to him if he were to discover that his real father was a murderer? A conscienceless follower of the Dark Lord? A cruel, bitter teacher hated by the entire school? It'd break him, I've no doubt that it would."

Remus shook his head.  "Harry's stronger than you think, Severus."

"If I find you've breathed a word of this to him, I swear I'll burn all the Wolfsbane powder in my stores and smash every vial of your potion."  Snape glared over the Pensieve at the werewolf.

Lupin raised both hands in surrender.  "I won't say a word.  But have you figured out how you are going to handle knowing even if he doesn't?  Are you going to be able to tolerate hearing him called James Potter's son by everyone when he's back here for the new term?  Will you be able to treat him the same way you have been for the last four years?"

"Yes!"  Snape answered stubbornly.

"Well, we'll see.  Let me have my doses for the next week and I'll be off to dig out old Mundugus and update Arabella."  He stood up as Severus did.  As the taller, darker man handed him seven bottles of the precious liquid, he cleared his throat.  "I'm sorry, Severus, for how it was back then.  If--if you ever want to talk about Lily, you know I'll listen.  And I won't tell Sirius--"

"Won't tell Sirius what?"

The two men whirled to face the door as Black sauntered in.  With his hair cut and tamed, and a set of newer robes, he looked nothing like the images that had set both Wizarding and Muggle communities to panic two years before.

"What a git I've always thought you were, Black." Snape recovered smoothly.  "But then, I suppose that's no secret."

Sirius growled, "I didn't come down here to be insulted."

"No, I'm sure you didn't, but it would be a shame to waste the opportunity, wouldn't it?  Remus, let me know if you find yourself having any side- or after-effects."  

Lupin nodded.  "I've been keeping notes on a small scroll about how the transformation feels.  I'll give it to you when we get back at the end of the fortnight.  Have a good holiday, Severus."  He headed for the door, herding Black before him.  He glanced back to see Severus seat himself before the Pensieve once more, before he pulled the door closed behind himself and Sirius.

* * * * *

July 7, 1995

(Little Whinging, Surrey)

Harry was shoved out the front door of 4 Privet Drive, a small duffle bag crammed with his toothbrush, a few changes of clothing, some old ratty socks, and the little tin of his special treasures wrapped up in one of Dudley's discarded tee-shirts dumped on the sidewalk by his feet.  Vernon locked the door and herded his wife and son into the car, ignoring his nephew.  Within moments they were gone in a roar of engine noise and Harry, his left arm, awkwardly wrapped in a stretch bandage and supported by a sling made from a piece of old torn up bedsheet, picked up his bag and trudged stiffly toward Mrs. Figg's house.

Four weeks with the old woman in her house that smelled of cabbage and all of her annoying cats.  The Dursleys were going on holiday to collect their prize and to celebrate their good luck.  They wouldn't be back until the first week of August.  

_Well, maybe I can at least convince her to let me go get my school stuff early--Oh, no!  How's Figg going to react when the Owl from Hogwarts comes with the letter about my Fifth year?_ Harry groaned.  Maybe he'd be lucky and it would show up at night.  He'd just be sure to leave the window of the guest room open so the delivery owl wouldn't wake up his minder with a lot of glass tapping.  _And at least I've got my key to Dad and Mom's vault.  If worst comes to worst, I'll run away again and spend the rest of the holiday at the Leaky Cauldron._

Mrs. Figg was apparently waiting for his arrival because the front door opened even before he could press the doorbell.  "Come on in, Harry."  

He swallowed as he looked at the angry expression on her wrinkled face.  He really couldn't deal with any more anger right now.  Uncle Vernon had left him some physical reminders of what he should say to any questions about his bruised face and injured wrist.  Unlike the old injuries, the new ones were hidden beneath his clothing.  All he really wanted to do right now was to curl up on Mrs. Figg's guest room bed and try to sleep without nightmares and to forget about the pain.

"Just leave your things at the foot of the stairs, you can take them up later."  Figg pointed toward the closed kitchen door.  "Breakfast first." 

Harry dropped the bag as directed and preceded the little old woman through the swinging door, only to stop dead as he saw the white owl perched on the back of one of the chairs.  "Hedwig?"  Then, before he could wrap his mind around the miraculous presence of his beloved owl, the back door opened to admit a familiar looking man with gray streaked brown hair.

"Professor Lupin?"

To be continued


	8. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and the legal licensees of Harry Potter books and products.  I am writing this for my own pleasure and have no intent to make any sort of profit with it. The inspiration came from Severitus, the plot came from my warped imagination, and everything else belongs to JKR and those to whom she's given the rights.

**WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME. . .**

(An Answer to Severitus' Challenge)

By RowanRhys

July 7, 1995 

(Little Whinging, Surrey)

"Harry! What happened to you?"  Remus' smile vanished as he took in the fading bruises on the boy's face and the ragged sling supporting his left arm.  "Where are your glasses?"

"Um. Broke them," Harry mumbled uncomfortably, sitting gingerly down in the chair Hedwig upon which the owl was perched. She leaned forward and tugged gently at his black hair with her beak, then hooted softly, distressed.  He winced momentarily then reached up to caress his winged companion.

Mrs. Figg snorted as she prodded sausages in the skillet on the stove. "Don't prevaricate, Harry.  When your uncle told me that you'd gotten in a fight on the way home from school, I didn't believe him for a minute."  Her sharp blue eyes stared into his.  "I saw you whole and hearty getting out of the car last week, when Vernon left Hedwig on the pavement.  He's lied about you ever since I first met him."  She turned her attention back to the skillet.  "Remus, pour Harry some tea."

"Mrs. Figg, h-how do you know Professor Lupin?" Harry shifted in his seat, trying to find a position where his sore shoulders didn't press against the wooden slats that made the back of the chair.  

"Terribly unobservant today, aren't you, Harry?"  She raised the hand with which she'd been moving around the links, and Harry gaped as he recognized the blurred stick was a wand, and not the long fork he'd assumed she was using.  The sausages suddenly levitated from the pan to a waiting serving plate, while Lupin was fetching a china teapot from where it had been steeping on the counter beside the sink.

As the witch added scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes to the platter, the werewolf rounded the table to fill the cup that sat at Harry's right hand.  Harry mumbled "Thank you" as Remus lifted the spout, but the words transformed into a gasp he couldn't suppress when his former teacher patted his right shoulder firmly.

"Harry?" Mrs. Figg frowned as she hurried to him, nearly tripping over a trio of her cats who had been lurking under the table. "What's wrong with you?"  

Harry ducked his head, unable to bring himself to look at either his old babysitter, or at the concerned Lupin who was crouched down on his other side.  His body was rigid as he fought to keep the waves of hurt from showing, digging his bitten fingernails into the palms of his hands.  "Please, I'm--I'm okay."

"You most certainly are not!"  Mrs. Figg took his left arm firmly in her left hand and passed her wand over it with her right, muttering a Latin incantation that Harry didn't recognize.  "Broken!  And never set.  I knew they weren't the nicest of people, Harry, but to do this!  Why didn't you _say_ anything?"  Her voice was going shrill with anger.  "Remus, there's floo powder in the living room.  Get to Dumbledore and tell him that there is no way that I'm allowing Harry to return to the care of those terrible Muggles."

"Right away, Arabella.  Harry, I'll be back soon."  Lupin ran through the swinging door that led to the front of the house, cursing under his breath.

Mrs. Figg continued to mutter under her breath as she unbuttoned Harry's oversize brown shirt and pulled it away from his shoulders.

He winced as she gasped.  "It's okay, Mrs. Figg.  It isn't really as bad as it looks. I--I disobeyed him, and--"

"Harry James Potter, there is _no_ disobedience that warrants caning a child, much less to this extent!  How can you defend those--those monsters!  If I'd known, I'd have told you who I really was years ago and insisted that Albus find another way to protect you."  She dropped three sugar cubes into the still steaming teacup and stirred it briskly.  "It's not chocolate, but will have to do.  Drink it up, Harry, while I see if I have anything to ease those welts."

He obediently lifted the cup to his lips, letting the hot, sweet liquid warm his insides as his mind tried to come to terms with the fact that his neighbor and babysitter wasn't a Muggle after all.  _I guess she's one of the other protections that Professor Dumbledore was talking about when he said that I had to come back here.  I wish I'd known.  _Then he remembered where he'd heard the name Arabella Figg before.  

"You're one of the 'old gang,' aren't you?" he asked as she rummaged through a cupboard. "That's why Remus is here, isn't it?.  I--er--overheard Professor Dumbledore telling Sirius and Professor Lupin to go out and visit 'the old gang' because of Voldemort's return," he explained as she pulled her head out of the cupboard to stare at him.  "He thought I was asleep, I think."

She nodded and went back to her sorting through bottles of various coloured potions then popped out of the cupboard again to scold the cats that were trying to liberate some of the sausages from the platter of breakfast food.  "Scat, you beasties!"  A wave of the wand and the platter was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, still steaming.  "Go ahead and eat, Harry.  You won't starve while you're in _my_ care!  Now, _where_ did I put that potion?"  She shut the cupboard door and bustled from the room, still muttering to herself.

Harry surreptitiously passed a link of sausage to each of the three cats that had quietly come to sit under his chair, looking at him pleadingly.  Hedwig accepted one as well, before he filled his plate for himself.  The luxury of being able to eat until he was full lasted less time than he'd hoped.  He guessed that in the week that the Dursley's had starved him, his stomach must have shrunk, because he found himself unable to do justice to the food that tasted as good as that prepared by the House Elves at Hogwarts.  He offered the remaining bits on his plate to Hedwig, who took another sausage and flew to perch on top of the china hutch, looking disdainfully down at the still-begging cats. The most precocious of them, a sleek-furred, solidly-muscled black tom with brilliant green eyes jumped up in his lap and snuggled the side of his head against Harry's jaw, purring, before swiping out with a paw and knocking the last few pieces of meat from his plate to the floor, where the other two cats pounced on it.  He swiped once more, snagging another sausage from the main platter, before jumping down from Harry's lap with his prize in his teeth.

Harry smiled tiredly at the cat's antics.  Even though his uncle had unlocked the bedroom door before dawn, he'd been awake for hours, after awakening from another horrible nightmare about the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and seeing Cedric Diggory's death over and over again, still utterly helpless to keep it from happening.  He tore his mind from the images, and focused on the cats, which looked even fluffier than normal without his glasses.  His head drooped and by the time Arabella had returned to the kitchen, he was asleep, his face pillowed by his good arm on the tabletop.

* * * * *

July 7, 1995 

(Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Study)

"Albus!"

The agitated voice calling from the fireplace startled the Headmaster from his perusal of the morning Owl delivery.  "Remus?  What's wrong?  Has Sirius gotten himself into trouble?"

"No, Sirius is fine.  He and Mundungus are tracking down Fellowes and Hudson.  It's Harry.  Can you open the Wards and let me through?"

A wave of a hand and a muttered spell allowed Remus to step onto the hearthrug, brushing off soot.

"Albus, you have _got _to get Harry out of that household.  The Dursleys--"

"Are all the family that Harry has, Remus," Dumbledore interrupted.  "It's the safest place for him until Sirius is cleared."

Remus stomped over to the desk and planted his hands on the top, glaring at the Headmaster. "_No!_ It's not! They took off this morning for four weeks holiday, leaving Harry behind with only Arabella for protection!"  The normally quiet-spoken man was shouting from anger.

"Calm down, Remus!"

"Do you have _any_ idea of what those miserable excuses for Muggles have done to that boy?  He's only been home a bit over a week and--" Remus abruptly felt the weight of Fawkes on his shoulder, and heard the phoenix's gentle warble in his ear.  "My god, Albus, they've beaten him.  He's got a broken arm that hasn't been treated and when I touched his shoulder it hurt him so badly--"  He subsided into the armchair that was somehow at the right spot, the phoenix song calming him.  He took a deep breath and pleaded, "Albus, at the very least, let me take Poppy back to Arabella's to fix him up.  We can argue over the Dursleys later, but Harry needs help now."

Moments later, they were heading down the spiral staircase and passing through the Gargoyle-guarded door.

The Headmaster looked shaken as Lupin more thoroughly described Harry's appearance and behavior.  "Truly, I knew they weren't the most loving of people, Remus, but considering the alternatives, they were really the only choice that we had if we were to protect Harry.  I had no idea that they'd taken their dislike of our world out on him physically.  Why did he never say anything about it to us?"

"I think he was ashamed.  At least that's how it looked to me.  And he looks starved.  Frankly, if weren't for his age, I'd have thought I was looking at Sirius after he got out of Azkaban.  I'm afraid that Arabella's secret is out as far as Harry goes.  She rescued Hedwig when that uncle of his left her unattended on the pavement in front of their house in her traveling cage.  Apparently, Harry had no idea what had happened to her.  'Bella said that she was not going to concoct some unbelievable story about why even an eccentric Muggle old woman would take in an Owl."

Dumbledore chuckled briefly.  "I can hear her tart voice now.  The secret would have been out in September anyway, with Arabella coming here to teach DADA."  He pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing, calling out, "Poppy!"

The matron, wearing a colourful pants suit and looking very different from her usual appearance during the school terms, came out of her office bearing a clipboard and quill. "Yes, Albus?  I was just going through my storeroom to see what I needed to order for next fall."

"We've got an emergency, and I need you to accompany us to Arabella Figg's house.  Harry Potter needs your help."

Remus briefly outlined the situation once more and the medi-witch clucked and frowned and demanded more detail.

"I don't _know_ anything more than the broken arm and the bruising on his face, really.  It seems he's been beaten across the shoulders, too but I didn't actually see that," Lupin explained, getting irritated at the delay in returning to Little Whinging.

"I'll need to get some more Healing Potions from Severus.  That last week of the term used up everything I had," Poppy fussed.

"I'll go down and get them!" Remus didn't even wait for an approval from Albus as he headed for the door at a run.

* * * * *

July 7, 1995 

(Hogwarts, Snape's Office)

The bottle of reddish-brown fluid that sat in the center of his desk mocked him.  The stacks of Potions textbooks and scrolls that cluttered the surface on each side were proving to be useless in analyzing what had happened when Peeves had dumped the Glowjelly.  He picked up a recent alchemical journal that had an article on the properties of the stuff, but, as he'd suspected from the first, there was nothing more than a brief historical note and a more extensive section on the current practical uses of the material.

_Created by Quentin Tremblor of Chipping Norton in the early 1980s after several years of searching for a safe alternative to torches and candles for interior illumination. Temblor's  efforts were inspired by his fire phobia. His research stems from a traumatic incident in his youth when the thatched roof of their family home went up in flames due to a carelessly placed flambeau._

_The specific alchemical make up of Glowjelly is under several proprietary protection spells and is not available to the general public at this time._

Severus pushed it aside and rubbed his temples.  Lack of sleep and the recurring visions of the past weren't making the research any easier, but he needed to know what had happened to the potion.  At this rate, the only way to find out just why the mixture had affected him the way it did, would be to find someone else with a memory block and see if it worked on them the same way.  But, if he was honest with himself, he really wasn't sure that he could torture someone else by making them live through the pain the way he was every day and every night since the accident.

A sudden pounding on his door startled him, but before he could call out to tell whoever it was to go away and leave him alone, the panel swung open, admitting one of the last persons he expected to see.

"You're in quite a hurry, Remus. Did Black manage to fall over your supply of Wolfsbane Potion and break all the bottles?" he asked drily as the werewolf came to a halt in front of the desk.

Breathing heavily, Lupin shook his head.  "We need Healing Potions, and Boneset, too, I think.  Right now!"

"You don't look as if you've been harmed.  What happened?  Did Black get hit by some Muggle vehicle he was chasing?"  Severus slowly got up and moved to unlock the cabinet where he kept the completed potions. "Or did Mundungus cast first and ask questions later when he saw you two?"

"No, Severus.  They're for Harry."

  
To be continued

**Author's Note:**  Thanks again to my faithful reviewers!  And a huge thanks to my twin, MischiefMicah, for the suggestion of the name and origins of Glowjelly and for letting me borrow her cat, Micah, for the breakfast scene.  I suppose he'll be even more arrogant than usual now that he's a "star!" But he's still a sweet cuddler of a kitty!


	9. Chapter Nine

_NOTE: This chapter, like the overall plot I'm working with, was conceived before OotP was published. I have decided that in as far as this story goes, OotP did NOT take place. So Sirius is alive as far as anyone knows, and the other events that occurred in OotP did not happen. Hello, Alternate Universe! *grin* Thanks to my loyal readers who bore with me in this year of military deployment and my limited access to the internet. I'm still writing, and will, hopefully, be settled in a new home in the new year, where I'll be able to update more frequently._  
  
WHAT WILL COME, WILL COME  
Chapter Nine  
  
(July 7th, Severus' Potions Lab)  
  
Severus's fingers fumbled a potions vial for the first time in literally years. His shoes and the hem of his robe were soaked by the pale blue of the Healing Potion as Remus Lupin's words sank into his mind. Fear and worry welled up in his mind, but he pushed them back and, forcing his hands to stop trembling, selected the remaining vials that Lupin would need. He tried to disguise his start by sneering, "I always knew that Potter wouldn't be able to get through a summer without causing some sort of disaster to himself."  
  
He turned to face the werewolf and was taken aback as the shorter man snatched the potions from his hands. "Quit lying to yourself, Severus. You always have given a damn about Harry, no matter what act you put on. He needs help. Are you going to stay here, trying to hide from the truth? Or are you going to come with me to face up to it?"  
  
"Of course I'm coming. If only to make sure that Poppy doesn't waste the fruits of my labor by hyper-enthusiastic overdosing." Snape didn't meet Remus' eyes as he took a final vial from the cupboard then closed and locked it.  
  
They hurried to the Hospital Wing, to join Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey at the large hearth where a fire was merrily burning despite the warmth of the mid-summer day. Almost before Snape's long stride came to a halt, Poppy had thrown a handful of Floo Powder and barely gave the flames time to change color to green before she leapt in, calling out "Arabella Figg!"  
  
Moments later, Snape stood alone on the Infirmary hearthstone, the tiny crystal vial still clenched in one fist, hesitating. _He's only a boy, Severus, not some monster out to destroy your life._ He threw in the Floo Powder and stepped into the fire. As the flashing lights of hundreds of other hearths flickered past him, he bitterly thought, _No, you've done a fine enough job of destroying it yourself._  
  
* * * * *  
  
(June 7th, morning, Arabella Figg's House)  
  
A commotion of raised voices roused Harry. _Oh, no! Uncle Vernon!_ Not fully awake or aware of where he was, he automatically tried to minimize himself, to find a place to hide, a corner where he could at least protect part of his body from the forthcoming blows. He scrambled to his feet, but found his ankle caught up in the leg of the chair and one of the cats, and fell hard onto the lino floor.  
  
The chair hit the floor with a clatter and the cat yowled, immediately silencing the arguments from the front of the house. Harry bit his lip, forcing back sobs of pain, and curled up on himself under the table, holding his good arm over his head protectively. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as footsteps hurried in his direction. He was dimly aware that they didn't sound anywhere as heavy as Vernon's or Dudley's, but the fear was overwhelming and he succumbed to the darkness again.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The boy wasn't in the kitchen, Snape saw as he followed the rush of the other adults in Arabella's wake. He looked toward the door and windows but found them closed, with no indication of forced entry or exit. His blood ran cold. The protections had run out and the newly-risen Voldemort had gotten Harry...  
  
Then a presumptuous black cat complained loudly and jumped from the laden breakfast table to the floor below, disappearing behind the overturned chair and beneath the dangling tablecloth.  
  
What Severus saw hardly eased his shock. Potter--he couldn't bring himself to call him anything else yet--lay curled up defensively, scrawnier than he'd ever seen the boy, shuddering. The arm that hid his face from view was mottled with bruises where the sleeve had ridden up.  
  
Poppy and Arabella then blocked his view, but he couldn't block his ears from the thready, desperate keen that came from the youth as they touched him, and the Potionsmaster blanched as a memory rolled forth from the muddle in the back of his mind.  
  
_His first failure for the Dark Lord. A potion that had not accomplished what Voldemort had wanted. A mismeasurement? A distraction during the timing of the compounding? Corrupt ingredients? In any case, Snape had failed his master and was crouched in the center of the circle, beneath the censuring eyes of the other Deatheaters. He was glad his mask hid the terror in his face as Voldemort raised his yew wand. "Crucio!"  
  
He had no memory of returning to Hogwarts, only of pain running like fire throughout his body, limning each nerve and overloading his mind with agony. It took Poppy only a few hours to restore the neural pathways to what they should be, but the sounds he'd made, even under the influence of the Draught of the Living Death, remained in his mind.  
  
With further experience and implementation of his will, he'd learned not to reveal his weaknesses, suffering the aftereffects and healing in hard-won silence._  
  
Snape staggered back against the wall, shaking his head as he pulled out of the memory. Thankfully, the others were already upstairs and there had been no witnesses to his moment of weakness. He set foot on the first tread and found himself facing the muscular black cat, who was sitting on the newel post grooming a front paw. The feline stared at him without blinking for a long moment, then miouwed imperiously before effortlessly leaping to the carpeted steps and racing up, looking back once as if to ask why Snape wasn't coming.  
  
He followed, his fingers on the vial of _Veritasserum_ in his pocket. Sooner or later, he knew he'd have to tell the boy the truth. He hoped that it wouldn't be today.  
  
* * * * *  
  
(Arabella Figg's House, late afternoon, June 7th)  
  
A deep, rumbly buzzing vibrated Harry's entire body, centered on the middle of his chest. He rolled the side his face into the smooth cotton of the pillowcover and snuggled into it, caught in that not-quite-ready-to-wake-up place. But the voices, one agitated and one gently, but firmly, protesting, were drawing him out of his dreamless slumber.  
  
"Well even if they were back from their wretched trip, there is no way I will allow you to send that boy back into that house!"   
  
"Arabella, there aren't protections here--"  
  
"Then put them on my house, Albus, or take him back to Hogwarts where he'll be safe!"   
  
A cool hand brushed his hair off of his forehead, and Harry opened his eyes to stare up at the blurred figure of Remus Lupin. "Professor Lupin?" The black cat who had shared his breakfast lifted up from his chest and brushed Harry's face with his whiskers before jumping down from the bed and out of sight.  
  
"Good evening, Harry." Remus was looking towards the door, frowning, but turned and smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine." The answer came automatically, but upon reflection, Harry realized it was the truth. Nothing really pained him anymore. His stomach was demanding food, but he was used to that sensation, and so did not mention it.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey took care of all of the physical damage. Your wrist might twinge a bit in bad weather, but it's knitted solid now. And you've slept through the day. Do you feel up to coming downstairs to eat supper?"  
  
Harry pushed up on his elbows and blinked to, unsuccessfully, get rid of the myopic blur. "Did someone say something about me going back to Hogwarts?"   
  
"That, Harry, remains to be determined." Professor Dumbledore, followed by Mrs. Figg, moved into his view, his eyes not at all twinkly.   
  
Harry's hopeful face fell. "I see." He said in a flat voice, then turned toward Arabella. "What's for supper?" He avoided looking back at Dumbledore until he was sure he wasn't going to blubber.  
  
"I don't know. Severus was doing the cooking while I came up here." She nodded toward an adjoining door, "You know where the loo is. Come down when you're ready. Coming, Albus?" she snapped. When the Headmaster hesitated, Arabella grabbed Dumbledore by the arm and virtually dragged him from the bedroom.  
  
Harry pushed back the light covers and swung his feet to the floor. Before he could stand up, Remus had an arm across his shoulders, and he flinched, half expecting it to hurt. He looked down sheepishly. "I'm sorry."  
  
Remus sighed. "No need to be. I'm sorry I had to break your confidence--"  
  
The boy sighed, "I'm-I'm glad you did." He shuddered as memories of the previous week rose up, and firmly stuffed them back behind the mental door labeled "To Think About Later--Like After the Sun Goes Nova and the Earth Is Destroyed by It." He pushed himself to his feet, glad of Remus' support as he wobbled. "Did she say Professor Snape is cooking supper?"   
  
"Oh, he's actually a good cook if you can get him to do it," Remus said cheerfully. "After all, when you get down to it, a recipe is a recipe, whether you are using flour and sugar and salt, or dried fairy wings and beetle's eyes. Do you want me to wait for you?"  
  
Harry took a cautious step and shook his head as he maintained his balance this time. "That's okay. I'll come down in a few."   
  
* * * * *  
  
Snape tossed an extra pinch of curry powder into the stew and gave it a quick stir, sniffing the succulent odors that wafted from the simmering pot. "Needs saffron." He glanced about to make sure that no one was looking, and flicked his wand quickly with a softly uttered spell. A dozen dried deep orange strands appeared on the saucer upon which he'd laid out the other spices he'd used in the batched-together meal. Figg's leftover lamb roast, and the vegetables he'd found in the fridge, along with rice and some ancient dried pasta noodles combined to make a nourishing stew that would help to make up for the meals that his son had missed. He quickly derailed that train of thought. _I'm NOT doing this for Potter!_ "There's simply no sense in suffering through Arabella's idea of a meal, or in hauling a House Elf from Hogwarts to feed the six of us," he muttered.  
  
"Making excuses again, Sev?"  
  
He scowled at the werewolf. "Where's the boy? I'm not serving him supper in bed."  
  
"He'll be down in a few minutes. Mmmm. If the House Elves ever go on strike, I know who to suggest as the replacement cook." Remus pulled the wooden spoon from the stew and took a long slurp from it. He rolled his eyes appreciatively as he let the flavours roll across his tongue. "Ah, wonderful. I tell you, Severus, you don't know bad cooking until you've been stuck eating Sirius' idea of a meal."  
  
"Spare me the details. I don't wish to lose my appetite." Snape took the spoon away from him and tossed it into the sink. "Why don't you make yourself useful and set the table. I suppose that Arabella is still giving the Headmaster an earful, as the Silencing spell on the lounge is still in effect."  
  
Remus nodded. "I'm not worried. Poppy's still in there. She'll keep 'Bella from tearing him to pieces. Or," he added as he searched for plates and silverware, "at least she'll be able to put him back together afterwards."  
  
Snape stifled a bark of laughter, and turned back to his cooking. As he gave the pot another stir, a sense of deep unease came over him. How long did it take a fourteen-year-old boy to wash his hands? "Lupin--" he began, then froze as the werewolf dropped a plate to shatter on the tile floor at his feet. "Break in on the Headmaster--now!" He nearly collided with Remus as they sprinted from the kitchen, the former DADA professor shoving the door to the lounge open while Snape charged up the stairs, racing the black cat that seemed to appear out of nowhere.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry waited as the former DADA teacher moved out into the hall and down the stairs, then moved over to the window, squinting out into the bland suburbia of Little Whinging. It seems surreal that a house that so closely mirrored that of his rabidly Muggle aunt and uncle was the home of the magical woman who had been his babysitter. A babysitter who was ready to take on even the Headmaster when it came to Harry's benefit. But a niggling part of his mind asked, "If she really does care about what's happened to you, why didn't she interfere before this?"   
  
He pushed that thought away as well, and began to turn from the window, when he caught sight of his arm in the afternoon light. Harry grimaced at the bruises that still showed up on his skin. At least, after Madam Pomfrey's work, they didn't hurt and were faded into light mottled greens and yellows, instead of the horrible purples and black that Vernon Dursley had inflicted the night before. But, as bad as the weals had been, the words his maternal uncle had inflicted were far worse. Harry tried to keep the memory of them from replaying but they hammered at his mind as he got a blurred glimpse through the window of a group of tall, black hooded figures gliding up the street toward the house.   
  
Harry clutched at the windowsill and sucked in a deep breath as panic rose up in him. _Dementors! Dementors in Little Whinging._ Another group was approaching from the other direction, and he sagged to his knees as the horrid miasma of despair and darkness surrounded him, and the sound of his mother's screams rose in his mind, along with visions of the reptilian-faced Voldemort in the cemetery at Little Hangleton, yew wand pointed at him. He scrabbled for his wand, and pulled it from its hidden pocket, but the good memories he'd used a year ago to produce the _Patronus_ that had dispelled the Dementors near the Whomping Willow refused to surface. Instead, the words he'd tried to forget echoed in his head.  
  
_"Your frivolous, useless parents, no jobs, no income, blithely got pregnant with you, and probably lived on the dole like the useless parasites they were. Unnatural things. Freakish. Couldn't make it in the real world even if they had survived whatever blew them up. Just like you."_  
  
The image of Uncle Vernon loomed in his mind, florid face, bristly walrus moustache, piggy eyes that squinted at the world disapproving of anything that wasn't 'normal.' And he held Dudley's Smeltings Stick that had taken the place of his hand when it came to inflicting punishment on Harry. The teenager sucked in a sharp breath, trying to break through the vision, but the mental image transformed suddenly into the figure of the pale-fleshed, red-eyed Voldemort, and the Smeltings stick transfigured into the yew-wood wand that had inflicted so much pain on him weeks before. He felt the smooth wood of his own wand in his hand, but couldn't raise it to defend himself. A miasma of darkness seemed to rise about Harry, cutting off the light, and then the screaming began--_Mum! Dad!_  
  
Voldemort reached out toward him with clawed fingers and Harry threw himself backwards, sprawling on the floor, hitting the back of his head hard enough to see stars. _Harry Potter._ The dark lord's voice hissed sibilantly in Harry's mind. _Harry Pot--_  
  
"--ter! Potter! What is wrong with you? Get up!" The acid tones of Professor Snape's voice broke through the terrifying vision and the hand that had seized him belonged, not to the dark lord, but to the potions master. Snape hauled Harry up from the floor and cursed as Harry staggered. The black cat wormed itself around Harry's ankles, mewling anxiously.  
  
Harry stared at the teacher blankly for a few long moments, then, as the darkness and despair welled up again, he felt his knees buckle.  
  
"Damn it, Harry, there are Dementors outside! You've got to get out of here." Snape scooped him up and, cradling him in his arms, rushed to the stairs with the upset cat in hot pursuit. Remus Lupin was at the front door, casting locking charms.  
  
"Get Harry out of here, Severus! The Floo is open but Albus is going to seal it as soon as you've gone! Arabella is sealing the back door and windows."  
  
Snape ducked past the Headmaster who threw the green powder into the flames as Severus leaped into the fireplace shouting out "Hogwarts Hospital Wing!" The black tom jumped in with them, latching onto the professor's trousers with all four claws. The acrid smell of the magical fire triggered a memory that distracted him, and he lost track of the hearths that he and Harry sped past.  
  
_"Are you sure it's okay? I mean, I've not done this before." Lily looked doubtfully at the roaring fire in the back room of the Three Broomsticks, and back at the green powder in Sev's hand.  
  
"Would you prefer we Floo together?" He looped his free arm around her waist and smiled down at her, forgetting his crooked teeth for once. "I promise I won't let you go."  
  
Lily smiled up at him and snuggled up against his side. "I'd definitely prefer that."  
  
"Wench," he teased as he moved them closer to the hearth. "You just want an excuse to get your hands on my body."  
  
She giggled, her green eyes flashing with amusement. "Of course. I always have an ulterior motive."  
  
"You'd have made a good Slytherin, you know," he told her as he prepared to toss in the powder.  
  
"Well, you fake a pretty good Gryffindor, yourself. I think I'm ready." Her grip around his waist tightened.  
  
"I think I'm insulted. Here we go! Diagon Alley!" And the scent of her flowery shampoo was strong in his nose as they zoomed through the Floo system, wrapped in each other's arms.  
  
_ Severus tightened his grip on Lily's son as they swept through the Floo system, disoriented by both the memory and the after effects of Dementor exposure. Voldemort must have taken Azkaban already, but nothing had been said by the Ministry or _The Daily Prophet_, which generally was the Ministry's public mouthpiece. _Damn Minister Fudge and his refusal to take this seriously--to take _me_ seriously!_ The velocity of their passage slowed and Severus took a firmer grip on Harry's limp body in preparation for their arrival at the Hospital Wing.  
  
With a grace earned by years of practice, Snape emerged from the Floo and landed on his feet, calling out, "Poppy!" as he did so. The name died on his lips as he realized he wasn't at Hogwarts at all, but in a dank, damp room with stone walls and heavily shuttered windows. Moth-eaten tapestries hung from the walls and dust-covered heavy old furniture was scattered about, much of it toppled on its side as if disarrayed in a scuffle of some sort.   
  
He whirled and leapt back into the hearth before the green flames died, but it was too late. He barely kept from smashing Harry into the back wall of the fireplace and his right shoulder took the brunt of the impact. As he staggered out onto the tattered and faded hearthrug, the cat having abruptly let go of him and fleeing to far side of the room, he wondered just where the hell they were, and how he was going to get Harry safely to Hogwarts now? The Deatheaters and Dementors would probably be waiting at the Anti-Apparition boundaries, and he didn't have any Floo Powder.  
  
(to be continued)  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all associated people and places and things that you recognize in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling, and those individuals and corporations, etc. who have paid good galleons to her for licensing privileges and rights; in other words, they don't belong to me. I am merely playing in her back yard and will put the toys back neatly where I found them when I am finished with my own plot ideas.

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay. I had hoped to have this chapter up for Christmas but got nailed with Influenza (yep, the real thing) and was doped up on Tamiflu and cough syrup with codeine, and you don't want to see the initial drafts of this chapter (they were positively frightening!). With the return of my health, my muse has also returned and has forgiven me for putting her through such trauma, so the chapter is a bit longer than the usual. Enjoy!

**What Will Come, Will Come  
Chapter Eight**

By RowanRhys

Harry rose out of darkness to the sensation of something pawing at his shoulder. He twitched away from it, annoyed, and immediately received two rather hard head bumps near his scar. 

"Ow!" He opened his eyes to find a pair of wide jade-coloured ones staring into his, and the strong smell of cat-breath assaulting his nose. One more head bump and the black cat backed off watching him. "You didn't have to do that!" he complained.

Then he realized that he couldn't feel the presence of the Dementors and pushed himself up on his elbows to look around him. _There were dozens of them, like that day on the Quidditch pitch--_ His thought was broken off as he absorbed his surroundings. 

Stone walls, tapestries, dusty furniture-and, except for the cat, he was alone in the darkening chamber. He unconsciously wrapped his arms around the black cat on his lap, hugging the creature to himself as he looked about at the empty, dark grate and the half-shrouded windows that admitted a faint glow of reddish light but were too high for him to see out of from his supine position on a tatty, dusty rug on the floor. At first look he couldn't see a doorway, and terror reared up in him as he came to the immediate conclusion that he'd been imprisoned. The last thing he clearly remembered was being unable to summon up a _Patronus_, and Snape bursting into the spare bedroom at Mrs. Figg's, an expression of combined panic and anger on the pale, sallow face. 

Harry abruptly let go of the cat, groping at his pockets for his wand. His heart sank as he didn't find it. "They've taken it from me--" He scrambled to his feet and wavered for a moment before stumbling towards the nearest of the windows. Even as he got to the dirty, dusty panes, the light beyond faded into a murky twilight, and he could see nothing beyond the rippled, distorted glass. He shuddered as he turned back to the room, and peered through the increasing darkness, looking for anything that he could use to make a light. But he lacked the cat's night vision and, after barking his shins on a broken bit of unidentifiable furniture, he backed up against the wall and slid down to sit, huddled in Dudley's over-large shirt and jeans. He tried to make sense of his situation, to push incipient panic back. If the Deatheaters were going to come for him, he wanted to meet his fate with some vestige of dignity. He rubbed at the bruised place on his left calf and rested his forehead on his drawn-up knees. _Why am I here? You'd have thought that they'd have taken me straight to Voldemort--_

The cat suddenly curled about his ankles, rumbling deeply as he settled his body in the gap between Harry's cold bare feet and under his knees. Despite the fear that gibbered inside of him, Harry was relieved to have company, even if it was just a cat. 

"You know, I don't even know your name," he whispered to his companion, dropping a hand from his knees to stroke the smooth black fur. "When they come for me, you'd best hide. No sense in you getting killed too."

The cat made a chuffing noise and adjusted his position so that Harry was feeling warm puffs of breath on his toes.

"I--"

Harry's next statement was cut off by the sharp, cracking sound of someone _Apparating_ into the room. He cringed back, despite his resolve to bravely face the Deatheaters, and hit the back of his head on the stone wall. The wave of pain and dizziness that followed made him miss the initial words of the new arrival, but the sharply barked "_Lumos_" dragged his attention back to the situation at hand. 

Initially, all he focused on was the sweeping black robes. *Deatheater!* 

"Bloody Potter! Where the hell are you hiding?" The angry tones of the voice were familiar, but the frantic expression on the Potion Master's face was not. 

"P-professor?" Harry pushed himself up, careful not to step on the cat, and blinked owlishly in the glare of the magical light being emitted by the end of Snape's wand.

"Couldn't just lay there until I got back with Floo Powder, could you?" the older man sneered.

Harry didn't answer, looking down at his bare feet. There was no way he was going to let the Head of Slytherin House know of his assumption that he was a Deatheater's prisoner, nor of the terror that thought inspired in him.

"Well, come along. We'll have to Floo to Hogsmeade and figure out how to get you safely up to the school once we're at Rosemerta's."

Harry bent and scooped up the cat before walking around the table against which he'd bashed his shins and the mouldy old armchair that he'd been hidden behind when Snape arrived. "Where are we--Sir?"

"As best I can tell, someplace near Walsingham. There are several old wizarding structures in the area that have been abandoned over time. Apparently this one was never taken off of the Floo network and we ended up here." Snape picked up some bits of wood from a broken chair and tossed it into the fireplace. "I'm sending you through first. Go to Rosemerta's office, the Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade. Get it right, Potter, I have no desire to spend the rest of this night searching you out because you ended up at the wrong hearth." Snape dug in a pocket of his outer robe and pulled out a small clay pot and held it out to Harry.

"Why can't we go directly to Hogwarts?"

"Because I have no idea if the Headmaster has left the Hospital Wing Floo open or not. You _don't_ want to slam into a closed and warded hearth. There wouldn't be enough left of you to use for a Polyjuice Potion additive."

The mental image made Harry go slightly greenish. "Oh." He dug his fingers into the pot and took a deep breath. "Are you--?"

"I will _Apparate_ there as soon as I've sent you through." He flicked his wand a the small pile of wood. "_Inferno!_ Now go!"

Harry took a firmer grip on the cat and called out "Rosemerta's Office, the Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade!" and flung the powder into the small fire. He barely gave it time to turn green before he leaped in. The flickering lights of open hearths rushed past him, and he heard the cat yowl in fear and anger as they went. Despite the frightened animal's claws shredding the baggy shirt he wore, Harry grimly maintained his tight hold and hoped for the trip to be quickly over.

When he fell through the designated hearth into Rosemerta's office, he felt hands grab him before he could tumble to the floor, and began to struggle against them. "Let me go!"

"Quiet down. Potter!" Snape growled at him as he set the teenager on his feet. "Unless you like falling face first onto the floor."

Harry released the cat who scurried to hide in the nearest shadows--_I really need to find out your name_, he thought--and stared around the small room he'd arrived in, avoiding the professor's glare. The sole door was shut and the room was filled with a large wooden desk piled high with parchment bills of lading, a bedraggled owl perch, some crates that appeared to have bottles of butterbeer in them, and various bags and bins and boxes of unidentifiable things. There was no window, and the air in the little chamber was quite close.

"So how do we get to Hogwarts from here?" he finally asked when he was sure he had control of his voice.

"We need to sort that out. There's likely to be Deatheaters at the school boundaries, so walking up the road is obviously out of the question, as is getting to the tunnel at the Shrieking Shack. We may have to wait until dawn. They won't want to be seen in daylight and should be gone by then." Snape pulled the chair out from under the desk and seated himself in it.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and paced as far as he could away from Snape, chewing on his lip. He knew how they could get into the school, but if he revealed the secret passage, Ron, not to mention Fred and George, would probably never forgive him. But the idea of spending the night in a place vulnerable to Voldemort's attack made his blood run as cold as it had when he'd thought he had been captured again. _And if they figure out I'm here, they wouldn't keep from destroying this place, no matter who else was in it._ He worried over the idea for a long minute before turning to Snape.

"Professor, I know how we can get back into the school."

Snape, scowling, sneered at him. "Really, Potter? Have you somehow managed to figure out a way past the Anti-Apparition wards all unbeknownst to the rest of us?"

Harry glared at him. "I wouldn't put it past Hermione to have found out a way, but, no, it's nothing like that. We need to get into Honeyduke's cellar. There's a tunnel--"

Snape's sneer transformed into a brief expression of sudden comprehension, before returning to his usual dour visage. "One you've apparently become all too familiar with, eh, Mr. Potter?"

Harry flushed. "Er--yes." He looked away.

"The problem will be getting from here into Honeydukes unobserved--" Snape was interrupted by the click of the door latch.

"Let me get a crate out of the office then--" The clear, warm tones of Rosemerta's voice penetrated the wooden panels, and Harry saw the Potions Master relax a bit. She slipped into the office, closing the door tightly behind her, and smiled at Harry before turning her eyes on Snape. "I'm glad you--both--made it here safely. I've got a place for you to stay overnight if you need it."

"Thank you, Rosemerta, but if we can find a way to get into Honeyduke's unobserved, that should solve our problem."

Harry watched the barkeeper's eyes suddenly twinkle. "So that old tunnel is still passable? I'd have thought it would have collapsed years ago!"

"You know about it?" he blurted out, surprised.

Rosemerta put her fists on her hips and looked at him in mock sternness. "You aren't the first student to try to find ways out of school, Mr. Potter. We were young once too!" Her sternness faded into a thoughtful expression. "Hmmmm. Toby Honeyduke is out in the taproom. Perhaps--" Her voice trailed off. Scooping up one of the crates of bottles, she caught the door latch with her elbow. "I'll be right back."

Harry watched her leave and chewed on his lip some more. The idea of staying overnight with Snape shut up in this little room--or wherever else it was that Rosemerta had prepared--did not appeal. He shifted postion and realized suddenly that he was still barefoot.

With his movement, Snape apparently noticed his dearth of footwear. "Potter, where are your socks and shoes?"

"Mrs. Figgs' spare room." Harry moved over to the fireplace and stared at the merrily burning flames. "I hadn't got them on yet when everything happened. And I can't find my wand either," he added, hunching his shoulders as he waited for a stream of Snape's usual vitriol to pour out on him.

Snape said nothing and Harry warily looked up at him.

The man's face was blank and his dark eyes looked as though he were caught up deep in another place and time. 

* * * * *

Severus was about to acidly comment on Harry's carelessness when he was abruptly struck with another vivid burst of memory. His awareness of the office faded as Lily's voice and the sight and sounds of a summer day at Florian Fortesque's ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley filled his mind. 

_"You don't swim?"_

"Well, if you call thrashing about madly to keep one's head above the water swimming, then I suppose that I do. But I don't like it." He reached across and swiped a bit off of her ice cream sundae.

"Hey!" She lunged across the table to snatch the cherry back. "That's mine!"

He laughed as he held it out of her reach for a moment then moved the spoon back toward her. "How about we share?" He brushed the edge of the spoon across her lips and watched hungrily as they parted. Even white teeth bit into the marachino cherry, neatly bisecting it with a minimum spray of juice.

"Mmmmmm!" Her green eyes gleamed at him.

He put the spoon in his own mouth then nearly choked as she suddenly remarked, "You know, I'd rather like to see you in a swim suit." 

She scrambled to her feet and came around the table to pound him on the back, as the half cherry insisted on going down the wrong way. As he recovered himself, she whispered in his ear. "And I've never even seen you barefoot yet."

"Professor?" 

Severus fought to maintain his composure as he focused on the skinny boy before him. The long feet poking out of the bottom of the overlarge trousers looked just like Lily's he realized. He tore his eyes away from them and dragged in a deep breath. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. For now, we need to get up to the school." 

He got to his feet and was reaching for the door latch when the panel opened to admit Rosemerta once more. Only this time she was followed by a short portly fellow who Harry recognized as one of the men who worked in Honeyduke's. 

"Toby is going to let you into the shop," she announced. 

"I've got an excuse to be in there--we're working on a new variety and the process needs to be checked around eleven." He cast an eye over Harry. "You're small enough to hide under my cloak, but, you, Professor--"

"Perhaps you might like my professional advice on your new concoction?" Severus suggested smoothly. 

Toby grinned and nodded. "That would be the ticket, Professor. If anyone should ask, I'll just tell 'em that." 

"Get your cat, Mr. Potter, if you insist on bringing him along," Severus told the student. Glancing down at the tears in his trouser leg and then to the rips in Harry's shirt, he added, "He's done more than enough damage to my wardrobe tonight." 

* * * * *

With far less drama than Severus feared, the three wizards quietly made their way out of the Three Broomsticks' back door and along the alleyway that paralleled the main street. Harry found himself wishing that he were hidden under Snape's cloak instead of Toby's. At least then he wouldn't be hunched over awkwardly to keep his head out of sight. At his current height, he would have just fit under the Professor's arm, and would have been less likely to end up with his toes stepped on. It didn't help that the cat was also under the cloak with him, draped over his shoulders and grumbling about being confined under the fabric. 

Toby unlocked the back door of the sweets shop and magically illuminated the kitchen that was redolent of chocolate and other delicacies. Harry gratefully hurried inside and stood where he wouldn't be visible through any of the small windows, nor through the passageway into the sales part of the store. 

"So, Rosemerta says there's a way up to the school from here, lad. Why don't you enlighten me?" Toby pitched his cloak at a chair and bent over a cauldron that was bubbling gently over a low blue flame, giving it a quick stir. 

Harry mentally asked Ron to forgive him, and cautiously led the way into the shop itself and silently went to the door that led to the cellar. Toby grabbed a candle and followed closely; Snape right behind him. 

"Down in the basement, eh? Makes sense, I suppose, although why no one ever noticed anyone coming and going is beyond me." Toby peered over Harry's shoulder at the boxes and barrels and bags stored neatly in the cellar. 

"Well, it's not that visible." Keeping a hand on the cat, he went to the place on the board floor where the trapdoor was disguised and tugged on it, awkwardly pulling it up to reveal the steps that led down into the dank tunnel below. 

"Well, I'll say--" Toby shook his head and stared into the dark hole. "If I'd have known about this, I'd have locked up--"

"_Obliviate!_

Harry stared at the abruptly silent and blank-faced Toby in shock. 

"Move it, Potter!" Snape pushed him down through the trap door and immediately followed, pulling the panel down into place as silently as possible. 

"Why did you do that for?" Harry demanded, only to find a hand sealing his mouth. 

"Quiet! Don't let him hear you." Snape's voice was an urgent whisper. 

Harry swallowed hard, trying to see anything through the darkness, and all too aware of the looming presence of the Potions Master on the step next to him. From above came a confused mumble as Tony emerged from the initial impact of Snape's spell. 

"Eh, what did I come down 'ere for?" He stumped around the cellar for a few seconds, "Ah, that's it, more sugar." After a couple more thumping sounds, Harry faintly heard the fading impacts of feet on wooden stairs as the candymaker left the cellar. 

The hand across Harry's mouth fell away and he dragged in a deep breath. "Why--?"

"_Lumos_." Snape's wand cast a greenish glow that illuminated the tunnel and gave the professor's face a livid cast. "What he can't remember, he can't tell. If certain people got wind that Honeyduke brought us here tonight, his life would be shorter than the time it would take for you to eat a Pepper Imp. Not to mention that it would not be good for outsiders to realize this passage to the school exists." 

Harry shuddered at the thought of the candymaker being tortured and killed by the Deatheaters and turned to go down the narrow steps to the dirt floor of the tunnel. The cat squirmed down from his shoulders and padded at his side, and he could hear Snape behind him. 

As they made their way through the long damp tunnel, ducking dangling tree roots and avoiding fallen rocks and clods of dirt, Harry tiredly wondered what else could go wrong. 

When Snape preceded him up the steps that led into the school through the Humpbacked Witch statue, he found out. 

"You bloody Deatheater! What have you done with Harry?" 

_Sirius?_

There came the sound of a fist smashing into bone and flesh, and the impact of a body hitting the floor. Harry frantically squirmed through the opening in the statue to find his Godfather standing over a supine, and apparently unconscious, Potions Master. 

TBC


End file.
